Primrose Path
by Akito The Sex Goddess
Summary: The Joker's life has been a hard one, and nothing anyone can say will change it. Even through abuse, neglect, incest, and violence, can Jack Napier find the "primrose path" to life? AU, rated M for language, violence, and sexual content. JxB, JxH, etc.
1. A Fate Once Told

_Hey, everyone! This story is my first story for the Batman comics, although I've been meaning to write one for a while. Taken from the idea of my best friend's (Kureno Sohma) fic "Why So Serious?", this story is a high school tale of Gotham's favorite civilians. It's from the Joker's, or Jack Napier's, point of view and involves his childhood as well as his high school life. I'm not quite sure where this will go, meaning towards if he will be paired with someone, etc, etc, but it __**does**__ show some homosexual views, as with Bruce, and some abuse things, and also some statutory-type things, so if that kind of thing offends you, I advice you not to read. This fic is pretty dark, but there will be some humor involved, and it shows how Jack came to be the Joker. (I'm a strong believer that chemicals can't change your personality along with your looks. Remember what happened when he fell into that vat of chemicals? He started laughing his head off, as if he suddenly became insane. This story leads up into how he became the insane person that he is.) With that, here it is- Primrose Path._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Batman™, DC, or any of the characters. Arkham High, the Joker's parents, and anything else that doesn't fit the real story, all belong to me.

**Dedication: **I dedicate this entire story to my very best friend, Andie, AKA Kureno Sohma. She is the greatest! I love her so much! She's been there for me when I have problems, and makes me laugh even when my entire day was crap! Thanks for being there! GIRL BUDDIES!

"_Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water," _Shakespeare.

I think this phrase from Shakespeare's _Henry VIII_ really goes to heart with the Joker. How _I_ conceive this phrase is that we all see the bad side of people, but their good side is hidden. The Joker's bad intentions everyone is aware of, but what we can't see, the part that's hidden in the water, are the things he values, the _good_ in him. Please take this to heart as you read my story. This is the story that includes the Joker's values, the Joker's _good side_. Here it is, _Primrose Path_.

"Would you like to tell me how you got those cuts, Mr. Napier?" The ticking of the clock, the smell of dry-erase markers, all of the things fit the mood in that little room they call the school shrink's office. A wood color-painted plastic table was the only thing that separated us, in a physical state. Mentally, well, that was a different story.

"You look good today, Ms. Quinzel," I told her flatly, looking her in those bright, blue eyes of hers, the one's that were hidden by a pair of black-rimmed circular glasses. "You should wear your hair down more often." At the compliment, she started to fidget with the locks of golden blonde hair that were strewn across her shoulders.

By the look on her face, I could tell she wanted to say, "you really think so?", but her mindset told her otherwise, for that would have been unprofessional, _blah, blah, blah_.

"Thank you, Mr. Napier, but that's not what we're here to discuss." Smart choice of words, Ms. Quinzel. You're getting better at this.

She was a fairly new doctor- straight out of college. Why she wanted to be a _school_ psychologist was beyond me. Sure, Arkham High was filled with wackos, but not nearly as many as, say, an asylum would be. That's the thing that psychologists were attracted to, I presumed; the _insane_ people. Maybe she just wasn't up for the task, though. Or maybe she really liked this job. Whatever the reason, she was here, and that was that.

Principal Gordon had sent me down to her office countless times- whether it be for the fights that broke out with Bruce Wayne; of course, being the gazillionaire that he was, he didn't have to actually _go_, or if I exited a classroom just because I felt like it, or even if I had a few cuts and bruises on my face; I'd always have to go. And Ms. Quinzel was quite _acquainted_ with me in more ways than one, if you get my drift.

No, I hadn't instigated any of it- believe me, it was all _her_, but I believe the term is called _statutory rape. _Although we hadn't quite gotten that _far_, I believe some of her _intentions_ might have been in that jurisdiction.

Anyway, no matter what I did, she flirted and prodded at my mind, trying to get answers out of me. I think that's why she did it. She was simply _curious_.

"Tell me, Mr. Napier," she said as she stood from her spot to walk over to me. "Tell me how you got those scars." She stood ahead of me, hands at her hips as she waited for an answer. Obviously, I wasn't going to give her one, but it was as if _just then_ that she realized it, for she bent down to me – and when she did so, she was a fair bit shorter, I might add, - to look me in the eye.

"Would you tell me in a more... secluded area?" With that, she reached into her shirt and took out a slip of paper. Had she been planning this? She put it into my palm, smiling as she tucked my fingers over-top of it. It was probably her address or her phone number or something, but whatever it was, I was going to throw it away the minute I left that room.

"I'm going to go to lunch, Ms. Quinzel," I told her, standing up. She stood as well, grabbing my hand to hold me back.

"I didn't dismiss you, yet," she said. I rolled my eyes and turned to her. She had pressed her lips against mine the instant I turned around.

"Now just tell me one thing," she said into my ear. "Will you take me up on that offer?" I hesitated, then said right back,

"Goodbye, Ms. Quinzel." I turned and walked out of there, throwing her little note in the trash. Women were sick, disgusting, and vile creatures. I couldn't tell anyone about her, though- what would they do, call my parents? They weren't any better. When Mother wasn't urging on Father as he used me as a human punching bag, she'd be bribing me with my own dinner, and if everything wasn't _her_ way, I'd get no supper, nor would I get breakfast. Sometimes she'd even treat me to horrid things which she'd forcibly shove down my throat, such as minor things from cat litter to pieces of paper- anything that wouldn't kill me but wouldn't be that great going down.

Now that I'd gotten older, though- I was about 17, I could resist these things, so she got a little worse. She'd shove me outside in the blistering heat, or on the coldest night in winter, sometimes just for kicks. Other times she'd come at me with a knife, just to scare me, or just to scratch me up a bit. Father used more... violent methods, such as resorting to stabbing me in the arm, or breaking my nose like he did when I was nine.

Sometimes I'd just lay there on the broken down cot they call a bed, shivering in the basement's coldness, plotting my parents' demise. How I enjoyed to imagine the look on my mother's face as I tore apart her jaw, her form still twitching with life as she couldn't even emit a scream. Then I'd find whatever I could and shove it down _her_ throat. Sharp things, though, like tacks, pins, maybe even tooth picks- things that wouldn't kill her, but wouldn't _be that great going down_. And I'd laugh... I'd laugh in her face!

And Father... Oh, the things I'd do to _him_. First I'd cut _him_ up, see how he'd like that. Then I'd punch him, over and over and over again until he lie there in a bloody pulp. Then I'd--

-- _Doink! _Something hard hit me in the back of the head as I made my way past the lunch tables. I turned and saw who? None other than Bruce Wayne and his annoying little buddies. There was his girlfriend Rachel- pretty girl, but incredibly _stupid_, and then there was Dent, _Harvey Two-Face_ Dent, aka burn victim. His house burnt down last year along with his parents, but he made it out of there with half his face gone. Didn't know whether to call the guy lucky or unlucky.

Those three just sat there, laughing at me, giving Bruce a high five. It looks like he was the one who threw the... and now I saw it, _apple_, at me. The half-eaten fruit roll back and fourth on the ground until it came to a stop near a pillar.

I walked up to the group rather calmly, and when I approached them they all stopped laughing.

"If you have something to say, Wayne," I began, pointing my finger right at Bruce. "Then say it to my face."

"Can't you take a joke?" he asked, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. "It was all in good fun, Napier." I took his vulnerable position into notice and slugged him right in the face. He fell flat on his back, only to try to get up. But I was already on him. As I bashed his head in, I couldn't help but think of my Father. I'd laugh in his face!

"Stop it, you two!" I heard someone scream. It was Rachel. She tried to pry me off of him, but as soon as she did, her little boyfriend took it to his advantage to kick me right where it counts. I winced but barely gave him the chance to do it again before I kneed his solar plexus.

"Cut it out!" People were starting to make a commotion now, and teachers began to rush over to us. Mr. Gordon himself pried me off of him, Ms. Quinzel standing in between us. And of course, in the position we were in, it looked as if _Bruce_ were the innocent one. Sure, the guy throws an apple at me and kicks me in the junk, but _no_, _I_ was the bad one.

"What were you THINKING?!" Mr. Gordon scolded me as he pushed me to the side. I was bleeding, but not as bad as perfect little Bruce, I might add.

"Does it matter? No one takes my opinion into perspective, anyway."

"You know what?" Mr. Gordon said, prodding my in the chest with his index finger. "I am sick and tired of this, Napier! I really don't want to expel you, _really_, I don't, but if you keep this up, I'll have no choice!" I gave a long, endearing sigh at this one. Of course he wanted to expel me. He just felt _sorry_ for me. Even though he did, he still could care less at what I thought. But oh well. Being expelled wasn't the highest point on my worry list.

"Mr. Gordon, do you want me to talk with him again?" I heard Ms. Quinzel say from behind me. Mr. Gordon shook his head.

"Harleen, I'm sure your a fine psychologist, but whatever you're saying just isn't getting through to him. We'll have to go to... _higher_ resorts." Well, at least I wouldn't have to talk to the coquettish shrink again, but what could these "higher resorts" really be? Please don't say...

"Come on, Jack. We're going to call your parents."

_There it is, you guys! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! The only thing I really had trouble with was the fact that Harley was older than the Joker... Oh well! I thought being a school psychiatrist would be a good job for her – fitting, don't you think? (Another thing was the fact that she took advantage of **him **instead of the other way around.) Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! _


	2. Sharing the Laugh

"Mrs. Napier?" Mr. Gordon sat in his office, a finger pressed against the speaker phone button. I sat in the chair across from his desk, twiddling my thumbs to pass the time. Mr. Gordon had never actually called my parents before – he'd only sent home a note with me saying that he wanted me to start visiting the school psychiatrist. Of course, I didn't even _show_ my parents the note – it's not like they cared, and even if they did, they'd probably chew me out for it.

After a moment of silence, I heard my mother's voice on the other end. Not a "Hey, Mr. Gordon," or a "Yes, can I help you?" All she said was, "What has he done _this_ time?"

Mother was a most peculiar person. She was as thin as a twig, with long, muddy-brown hair with the occasional fleck of gray in it. Her eyes were dark, beady little things with absolutely no life at all, and her lips... Her lips were always scrunched up together to show her anger. Either that or placed around a cigarette. This time I knew it was the second one, because I heard her exhale for a long time, and I could picture that horrid smelling smoke pouring from her lips; that smoke that infected the house and made everything reek.

"Well," Mr. Gordon began, "He got into a fight with one of our more gifted students." Did he mean _more gifted_ as in _more gifted than your son_? Or perhaps did he mean _richer than you_?

Mother paused for a while, and I heard her give another rather audible sigh. "Well, who won?" Mr. Gordon was taken aback.

"What do you mean by that, Mrs. Napier?"

"I wanna know if _he_ won. If he didn't, that just proves what a pansy he really is."

"Mrs. Napier!" Mr. Gordon said, a bit shocked. It was strange seeing him like that. "What an absurd thing to say about your _own son_!"

"My son..." Then came one of Mother's cruel, raspy laughs. "The only reason that boy is my son is because I was too poor to afford birth control." Mr. Gordon was silent for a while.

"Thank you," he said before swiftly hanging up. The silence stretched out between us like a clothes line for only the slightest moment.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while, not daring to look at me. I sighed and folded my hands over my chest.

"I'm used to it," was all I said. Mr. Gordon looked up, giving me a comforting gaze.

"Now it all makes sense... Is... Is she always that..._cruel_ to you?"

"Nope," I said. "Usually she's worse." The principal's eyes were wide.

"I-I don't think it's right to send you home, Jack."

"Come on, Mr. G," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I've dealt with it for 17 years. I can deal with it for one more." He lowered his brows.

"I'm almost tempted to call the police."

"And what will that do?" I asked, sitting up just as quickly as I laid back. "She didn't do anything. All she said was she hates me, and last time I checked that wasn't a crime."

"It's verbal abuse."

"Freedom of speech." Mr. Gordon was silent for a moment.

"Did she give you those cuts on your face, Jack?"

"Now, isn't that Ms. Quinzel's job to be the psychiatrist?" The principal was silent. He slowly nodded.

"Forgive me."

"Look, I'll be fine, Mr. G," and with that, I stood up to leave. "Oh, and... It wasn't her, if you really wanted to know." I'd let him chew on that piece of information for a bit as he marinated in his office. I walked out of there and headed to class.

It was then that I realized I hadn't been to a single class all day. When I first got to school, as soon as Mr. Gordon saw my cheeks, he sent me to Ms. Quinzel's office. I'd been there all morning.

"Well, well, late again, Mr. Napier," Mr. Cobblepot, my history teacher, said as I entered the classroom.

He was a rather stout man, with short, stubby limbs and a large, protruding nose. His cheeks always seemed to be red, and his thinning hair was slicked back behind his head. He also wore this strange monocle, which was really the only monocle I've ever seen, and a pinstriped suit that seemed to be from the 1920's. He looked like this pretty much every day, and I absentmindedly wondered how he found the time to wash that one suit. Unless maybe he had 5 copies of the same one.

"Yeah, he was in the principal's office, weren't ya, Napier?" And, who else but to say that little smart reply than Bruce Wayne? Mr. Cobblepot, even though he was a very strict teacher, didn't tolerate butting into other's business.

"I don't think that's for _you_ to discuss, Mr. Wayne," he said sternly, giving him a look before returning to face the chalk-board. Call me old-fashioned, but I preferred those boards to the smelly dry-erase ones. And, they were fun to run your fingernails across.

"Now, Mr. Napier, we were just reading about the Polynesian Islands. Go in your text book to page... what was it now, 256?" I slowly nodded and retired to my seat, flipping open my book. It felt weird, going to class, after all the events of this morning. But I trucked on through it.

--

Walking home was bliss. It was the only time of day that I was truly alone. No school, no parents, and absolutely no Bruce Wayne.

Well, not this time.

And as you can imagine, as I saw that little asshole walking up to me, I wanted to kill him right then and there. How _dare_ he interrupt the only time of day that I get to _enjoy_ myself?!  
"Napier!" He said to me as he started to walk beside me. I picked up pace, ignoring him. He trotted after me.

"Hey, cut that out, I want to talk to you!" I looked at him, slowing down.

"Spit it out."

"Can we go somewhere?" I looked at him.

"...What?"

"To talk, I mean! I don't wanna have to talk in front of everyone..." With that, he pushed me into an alleyway. I nearly fell down on a poor cat that zipped off the minute she saw us. I only brushed up against the grimy wall.

"What do you want, Wayne?" I asked, brushing off the sleeve of my jacket. He was panting slightly. Maybe I _had_ walked a little fast.

"I just wanted to say sorry..." This was unexpected. He had his hands in his pockets, looking down at his shoes. "I just do that stuff to you because of Rachel and Harvey... They're always prodding me along, you know how it goes." Maybe he wasn't such an arrogant jerk after all. "And so... I'm sorry." He paused, a small smirk rising on his face. "Sorry I had to lie!" With that he ran off. And to think! He sounded so convincing!I knew it was too good to be true.

I ran after him, sprinting down that sidewalk like a madman. Damn, he was fast, but not fast enough. I tackled him. He got scraped up a bit, but stood and ran off again. I zipped after him.

"Fuck you, Wayne!" I yelled at him, watching him speed off into the distance. But no, I didn't stop yet. I took a shortcut.

We soon met again near a crossroad. He went off towards the other side of the road, and I followed. But--

Wham! A car slid into me. I rolled over the windshield and fell. But I was so blinded with rage that I didn't even care. As I ran after Bruce again, hearing "Oh my god, I just hit a guy!" in the background.

"Damn it!" Wayne yelled as he was on the edge of a one-way road. He took off through the forest. But he was slowing down. I was too, actually – It was really tiring, running that long! The adrenaline had started to subside.

I followed him. Then it became clear to me that this way was towards my own house. As I reached the broken-down shack I called a home, I stopped to breathe, watching Bruce stop as well.

"Damn it..." he panted, hands resting on his knees. "You're fast."

"Well, you made me angry," I said, panting equally as hard. And for some reason as we stood there, panting our lungs to death, it happened.

We laughed.

We laughed long and hard, until our lungs were nearly destroyed from all the excess movement. It was strange. I had never laughed this hard, and to think – it was with someone I hated. Bruce was acting differently, too. It was like a whole new person had come from this man whom I'd loathed for so long. A whole new person who could potentially become my best friend.

But it was a fat chance that _that_ would ever happen.

"Boy!" I looked up to the porch. There was Mother, one hand on her hip and a cigarette in the other. She was still wearing the bathrobe that she went to bed with the night before. It was chewed out by moths, and faded with age. Yet she still wore it.

"Who's that?" she asked, placing the cigarette into that small little mouth of hers. I looked at Bruce, then back at Mother, and was about to speak when Bruce walked up to her.

"I'm Bruce Wayne," he said, holding out his hand. "of Wayne Enterprises."

"Bah, like we need any more spoiled rich kids in this world," she said, swatting his hand away. "Now get off my property 'fore I call the cops." Bruce nodded, kindly giving a "yes, Ma'am," without any hesitation. He headed off.

"See ya around, Jack!" he said as if he were my best friend. I looked at him and nodded.

"Yeah... see you..."

_There it is, folks! Chapter two! How are you guys liking it so far? Please review! I am a review whore! I EAT YOUR REVIEWS FOR BREAKFAST! ... Without any milk! Okay, anyway... Don't mind me. I hope you guys like how this is shaping up so far. Don't you just feel sorry for Joker-kins? -snuggles him- Alright, I'm going now. ...Please review!_


	3. Unjust Companionship

"That your friend?" I had waited for her to say something. It was completely like Mother to bring stuff up like that and tease me mercilessly about it. Not in the fun way like a parent-child relationship _should_ be, but in a rather cruel, demeaning way. But that was Mother for you.

"He's an acquaintance," I replied shortly, sharpening my dulled pencil with a knife because we couldn't afford sharpeners. I had to finish my homework somehow.

"Hmm..." Mother said, seeming to be thinking. This part of the conversation made me uncomfortable. The way she did that, rocking back on her heels a bit, blowing out cigarette smoke as she nodded deeply as if she knew _everything_, but in a way it seemed that she always guessed _wrong_. But I _knew_ she did it to get on my nerves. And she succeeded.

"I don't want you talking to them rich kids," she said, pouring herself a glass of brandy. She coughed hoarsely, then took a big gulp of the alcoholic drink. "They ain't nothing but trouble, and you know it. Your father wouldn't like it, either."

"Since when would you or Father..." I scowled. "...ever cared about _anything_ having to do with me?!" The way she did things... everything! It all bothered me... I just exploded!

"Listen, Boy," she said, stomping her way over to me. It was strange- how loud her footfalls could be compared to her tiny form. She shook a bony finger at me, prodding it into my chest roughly. "You don't talk to me like that." I growled.

"I don't know... why I dealt with you for so long." I knew this was hurting my chances of _living_, but I simply _had_ to let this out. "I hate you! I should just leave! Oh, but I bet that's what you'd want, you fucking-"

_Slap_! It's not like I didn't see it coming, but the force behind it...

"You still got a year... A year with us, Boy. And you ain't getting a single whiff of the outside world until then, ya hear?!" I don't know if it was to punish me or if it was some sick way to protect me, but whatever it was, I wished, I _dreamed_ it would be the latter.

I gave up. Surrendered. If I had a white flag, I would have raised it. I slowly nodded, looking away. Tears formed in my eyes. She was so weak... I could take her down in a second flat. But she was more dominate it another way... Mentally. She controlled my mind. She brainwashed me. Whatever she wanted, she got. But with my age came wisdom, and that connection was slowly dissolving. I knew it, she knew it, _everyone_ knew it.

"Go on to your room," she told me, sipping her brandy. "Until your daddy gets home. Then he'll have a little _chat_ with you." I hesitated, my bottom lip trembling. I could see that smirk in my mind, that evil look of sadism that Mother used so often. And that laugh... I could hear it. I could _taste_ it.

"Go on!" She said, patting me roughly on the back. I quickly headed to my room.

My room. It wasn't really a room, just a mere hideout in the basement with a worn out cot on the side, crawling with insects and God _knows_ what else.

It was right below the garage. I could tell when Father got home, for I could hear that rusted-out, beaten, old truck as it puttered in. Every time he returned, I closed my eyes, exhaling, hoping he wouldn't beat me again.

Father, completely unlike Mother, was a rather large man, completely packed with muscle and a patch of thin gray hair on the sides of his head. He had a thick beard complete with mustache and sideburns. I swore he had more hair on his face than on his head.

He also had these beady little eyes, like Mother's, only they were _gray _and lifeless, instead of _brown _and lifeless. He was a lot older than her, too- Mother was in her 40's, but Father was reaching his 60's. Strangely enough, I looked like him. I had his hair, well, when his wasn't so gray- mine was blondish-brown and curly. I also had a lot of his facial features- his nose, his cheekbones, etc. But I had Mother's dull brown eyes, although mine looked a little less smoky, and I had her lips, too.

Father stood at least 6'0'' tall, whereas Mother was only about 5'0''. I found my place at a nice height of 5'10''. I was a lot like Father. I just hoped I wouldn't turn out to be like him in _personality._

_Putter putter putter..._ I heard the truck pull into the garage overhead. I closed my eyes and bit my lip to keep quiet. I suddenly felt like I was that little nine-year old boy again... The nine-year old boy that cried all night, and wondered why his father beat him_ this _time.

--

The next day was rather good one. I had run to school rather early, in one of those foggy mornings that gets everything all wet. I loved that. The dew that hung on the leaves made everything look so pristine, so beautiful. I took in nature's beauty as I traveled down that sidewalk path. Suddenly looking down, I noticed that same path coming awfully close.

--Oomph! The pavement skinned my arms and knees. I had tripped over something, but what? As I looked to the side, I saw it was a bag.

In the fog I had barely noticed it, but there was a school bag there. And next to it was a pair of shoes. Seeing that the pair of shoes actually were attached to a person, I backed up, brushing myself off.

"Sorry," I said quietly.

"No, _I _should be sorry," the voice said. It was a girl. Suddenly, my vision became clear. It was Rachel! It seemed that she noticed who I was at the same time, for she backed up with a gasp.

I wanted to say, _"I take it back_", but I didn't- I didn't want to be _that_ harsh. Sure, she had laughed at me with Wayne and Dent, but I found out that even Wayne was a little different that what I had first perceived, and that if this girl was dating him, maybe she was a good girl. Either that or an incredibly stupid one.

"H-Hey..." she suddenly began. "S-Sorry for that... that _thing_ at lunch yesterday."

"It's fine," I said. I kind of just wanted to get out of there, but as I turned to leave, she started to follow me. Had she gotten that from Wayne?

"Want to walk with me to school?" she asked politely, almost forgetting to grab her bag. I couldn't deny her, of course. Yet, I didn't really want to walk with her, either.

"Don't care," I said, not looking at her. Really, I didn't care. About _her_, that is. Didn't mean to be cruel, but when people tease you your entire life, you tend to hate them.

"Look, I don't think Bruce, or Harvey, for that matter, are really bad people. He just... _does _things, you know."

"Funny," I began. "Sometimes _I_ just _do_ things. But it doesn't always make it just."

"Jack..." she said. Weird, hearing her call me that. So many people just called me "Napier". "I know that I've been pretty mean to you, but..."

"Save it, Dawes," I told her walking ahead of her. "I don't wanna hear it." I heard her stop behind me. And that was the last of it.

--

"Mr. Napier... Tell me what's going on." There I was again. In Ms. Quinzel's office. She sat across from me, her hair in a tight bun, her glasses set to the side, a worried look set on her face.

I had come to school with the bruises from my father's wrath, and of course, the teachers sent me to Ms. Quinzel's little fun house.

"Please... Jack." She leaned in. "Please tell me. I'm worried for you... I'm scared. I don't want this to happen to you again." I looked down, clenching my fists. All I could think of was Father's hand flying towards me, penetrating my flesh, knocking the breath from my lungs, the life from my very soul.

"You wanna know... what happened to me, Ms. Quinzel?" I asked quietly, looking up at her. She looked at me with concern, giving a slow nod.

"You really wanna know?!" I scowled, then laughed, reaching for her shirt. I grabbed her and pulled her to me, flipping her around so her back was against my chest.

"My father... He beats me," I told her, rubbing her shaking form with my hand. My fingers glided along her arm, down, and then up again, caressing her. It was as if something possessed me... It was all a blur. I was no longer Jack Napier. I was someone else.

"He beats me a lot... Every time I'd get out of line- BAM!" I punched the air. "Or sometimes I'd just be sitting there and...- POW!" I punched the air again. She trembled every time I did so. Really, she was so innocent...

"What was that thing you wanted to know yesterday, Harleen?" I said, saying her first name with disgust and disrespect.

She looked at me, shakily saying, "H-How d-did you... g-get those...scars, M-Mr. Napier?" I laughed. I laughed coldly and cruelly, right in her face. And with that, I slipped my hand into my pocket, pulling out a knife.

I didn't even realize I _had_ it until then. I didn't know what I was going to do with it. I was just so... so _angry_.

"Well, you see... One day, I decide to stand up for myself... To tell Daddy how much I truly... _hate_ him..." I licked the blade, chuckling as I did so. "He took a knife... Just like this one." I held it out in front of her, poking her in the nose with it a few times. "And he walked towards me... Grabbing me as he laughed..." I grabbed her tighter, pulling her closer to me. "He said... "Why... so ... serious?" I got closer to her, chuckling in her ear.

She was shivering badly, yet she didn't scream for help. I don't know if she was scared or just protecting me. _She_ was committing a crime, too; having a relationship with an underage person was considered illegal, I hope she didn't forget.

"He put the blade in my mouth..." And with that I forcibly pulled open her mouth, shoving the blade inside, wiggling it around. "And you know what he said? Say it, Harleen. Say it."

"Wh-why... s-so..." Tears started to roll down those rosy cheeks of hers.

"Say it!" I yelled, shaking her slightly. She struggled to speak with the blade in her mouth.

"Why...so...s-serious?" I smiled, nodding as I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand.

"Good girl..." I stopped, flipping the blade shut as I flung it back into my pocket. I looked down at her, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes.

"Why so serious, Harleen?" Her eyes widened as she looked up at me... Those beautiful, baby-blue eyes. I smiled, snickering as I turned her to face me. I held her by her shoulders.

"I want to know..." I began, leaning in close to her so that our noses were practically touching. "if I can trust you, Ms. Quinzel..."

"Y-You can, Jack. You can." Her lip still trembled, but she seemed to be regaining her composure. Really, it was cute.

"Do you trust me?" I asked. She nodded slowly. I smiled, giving her a peck on the lips.

"Good, Harleen." I cupped my hand along her jaw. "Do you mind if I call you Harleen, Ms. Quinzel? Good friends like us should be able to call each other by our first names, right?" She nodded again, tears seized to fall.

"A-All my friends call me... Harley."

"Harley..." I said with a smirk. "Harley Quinzel. Reword that a bit and you get "Harley Quinn", like a harlequin jester. It's cute, Harley. It's cute." She gave a rather weak smile, still shivering ever-so slightly.

"You know what, Harley? You're in debt to me..." I slid my hand up and down her cheek, wiping up the remainder of her tears with my thumb. "You wouldn't want people to think we were... in a _relationship_, now, do you? Really, it would be quite a... disappointment on your part." She started to tremble again.

"What do you want?"

"I want you..." I said, grabbing her hands with my own. "to do as I say. If I tell you to jump off a cliff, you better do it. If I even want so much as a _sandwich_, you'll make it for me. Alright?" She stood there, motionless. "Hmm?"

"Y-Yes, Jack..."

"Good girl, Harley..." I said with a smile. "Good girl."

--

_And so, the beginning of his changes happen! Tell me what you guys think. I think this is going in the direction where I want it to... Although this chapter was probably my least favorite. Tell me what you guys think should happen next? I want to know a few things- should he meet up with Two-Face in the near future? He's had a chance with Bruce (and many more to come), and one with Rachel, so maybe I can bring Harvey into this. Other characters will be introduced too, folks, such as Scarecrow (one of my favorite Batman villains) and Poison Ivy, too. Thanks for reading, everyone! Please review!_


	4. Captured Despiration

**To The Crimson Wing: **Just wanted to say this to you before I got started. O You actually "nit-pick" very well! About the more actions than mental dialog thing...I KNEW that's what was wrong with it the second I started writing it, but me, being the dork that I am, didn't want to start over, because I'm too lazy, and because monkeys will rape me with push-pins if I do.

Anyway, thanks for reading my story! I was hoping you would! O You're a great reviewer, as I saw on Andie's review page. And so, I'm done with this little rant. -ahem- _Primrose Path._

_--_

I rushed down the hallway. What the hell had I just done?! The knife... I'd shown a knife in school... to the _psychologist_ no less! She'd completely been intoxicated by me, though... She'd been scared, yet, willing to do anything... And it felt good. This power... This feeling of power that I've never had before... It felt _good_.

It also felt _wrong_.

I was turning into them. My parents. Using someone for my own advantages? I didn't want to be like them at all... I wasn't. I _wasn't_ like them. They were cruel, evil, sadistic... I was just... experimenting. I didn't even know what I wanted to do with my little Harley, but I _owned_ her. She _belonged_ to _me. _She'd do anything I'd ask, I knew it. But for some reason... With all of this newfound power... I didn't _want _her to.

Or did I? I was so confused. I didn't want to think about it.

The whole time in the office... It didn't seem real. Nothing had been going through my mind. Nothing. I didn't think, I didn't even exist. I wasn't there. The person taking advantage of Ms. Quinzel was not Jack Napier. It was someone else... Someone that'd possessed me.

Heading down the hallway, I sighed to myself. Class didn't even seem to exist anymore. It was just something I did, something I _had_ to do. My mind was never there, though. I never learned a thing. I just did the work and that was that. School didn't matter anymore.

What mattered now was this new me... This strange person I'd never seen before. This possessed, cruel person who could be an innocent boy at one time and a dangerous criminal at another. And honestly, it scared me.

Did I have some sort of bipolar disorder? Did I need medication? Maybe it was something as simple as the fact that I didn't have breakfast. Or maybe it was something more complicated like a brain tumor.

Maybe I'd just finally snapped. Maybe I really _was_ one of those heartless fiends who don't know it until they snap, until they _crack_, until they shed that outer goody-two-shoes layer to the villain below.

No, I wasn't one of _those_ people.

But something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong with me. And I wanted help. I yearned for it. But how can one get help when their psychiatrist takes advantage of him? Well, the times at turned now. Things were different. Things were very different.

I thought about all of these things throughout the rest of the day. As I was heading home from school, I was so absentminded that I had crossed over to a part of town I'd never really been in before. Coming to a sudden realization of this, I turned to make my way back to my home, thinking of explanations to tell to my mother. But then it happened.

A flash, and I had fallen to my knees. What the hell was that! A sharp pain on my thigh and I was on my back. Straddled above me was a large snout with bared teeth. Seeing that this snout belonged to a rather large dog, I shoved it off and tried to escape. Damn it, damn it all! Me and my bad luck.

The dog didn't give up, though. It took a rather large chunk of my shoulder before digging into my spine. _It's just being defensive_, I told myself. _I wandered into its territory. It's protecting its owners. Just daze it and be on your way._ I tried to punch the dog in the nose, yelling for help. It was fazed for a moment, but came dashing after me once I'd stood up. I backed up so fast that I didn't have time to turn around, or even look behind me.

"Hey!" I heard someone call. But the other things they were yelling were muffled as I felt myself falling into blackness.

Down and down I went until I hit the bottom roughly on my back. I landed with an "oof" and it took a few moments for me to realize what had happened.

I had fallen into a pit. A well, now that I looked around. Who has an open well these days? I sighed. At least it was a dry well. Coughing a bit, I sat up, trying to regain my composure. Really, me and my bad luck. I "tsk"ed myself in my mind and leaned up against the wall.

"Hold on, I'll get help!" I heard someone yell from above. The face had dashed away from the surface of the well about the second I'd looked up. But I'd seen who it was.

Wayne.

He must have fended off the dog with something. But at least he was getting help. I sighed to myself. Could this day get any worse?

I looked down. I couldn't see anything, but I felt my pants and shirt. They were wet. I was bleeding.

Suddenly, a rope had magically lowered itself from above. It took me a moment to realize what to do when I heard Wayne's voice again.

"Grab on- I'll pull you up!" I groaned and gripped the rope, but I was too weak to hang on.

"I... I can't," I yelled up, coughing a bit. I was so dizzy... And that headache...

"Alright, I'll come down there." Before I could say anything, Wayne had lowered himself into the well by the rope and had landed in front of me.

"Here, let me tie this around you." It was strange, Wayne helping me. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all.

He was tyeing the rope around myself and himself, so it was even weirder. I never want to be this close to him _ever_ again, no matter how nice the guy is.

He secured the rope and then tried to lift us both.

_Snap! _The rope had broken. BROKEN.

"Shit!" Wayne said. "I thought it would hold up."

"Well you thought wrong," I said with disgust, looking up at the sky that was barely visible through the surface of the well. "Now we're both stuck here."

"You don't think I know that?!" He was pissed off. I'd be too, though, if I was stuck down in here with me. And anyone with half a brain would be pissed to be stuck in a well with _him_.

"SOMEONE!" I yelled. "HELP!"

"It's useless, Napier." Well, looks like the best friend thing had disappeared. "No one walks around here. I only go here because its the way to my house. Why were you here anyway?"

"I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," I said with a bit of embarrassment. "I was just thinking to myself and I got a bit carried away."

"Well, its no use to stay on the subject, I guess. Won't really help us." He looked up. "The soonest anyone gets here is the people that live in this house right here, with the mean-ass pit bull. The misses gets home around 6."

"That's four freaking hours from now!"

"Well its the only chance we have, Napier! So just deal with it." With that, we both sat down after untying the rope. I was pissed off more than ever, and I'm sure he was too. Four hours with _him_. What a drag!

"Ngh," I grunted to myself as I moved to lean against the wall.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning to me. I shook my head.

"Well, I got attacked by a freaking dog. I'm bleeding."

"You want me to look at your wounds?" he asked, taking out his backpack. He started to dig around in it.

"I'm fine, Wayne."

"No, I got a flashlight in here. Just let me see."

"No!" I said, getting a little anxious. I didn't want him to check out my wounds. One, because it was an invasion of my privacy, two, because one of the wounds would involve me taking off my pants, and three, I didn't want _him_ to help me for the sake of losing my dignity.

"Just quit complaining and let me see." The flashlight was flicked on. I winced at the bright light that shone in my eyes.

"Watch that thing," I told him sharply.

"Sorry," he said, lowering it from my eyes. He smirked. "What is it, that time of month again, Napier?" I looked down. Great. The blood from my thigh wound had spread up to my groin. Could this look any worse?

"Don't make jokes, god damn it," I told him gruffly, blinking tightly as my eyes got used to the light. "It hurts like hell."

"Well then, let me fix it up."

"No way in hell, Wayne!" I nearly yelled, tensing up a bit. I did _not_ want him to fix my wound. Especially _that_ one.

"You're really stubborn, you know?" he said, digging in his backpack. "You got a knife?" he asked, looking up. I thought about the one in my back pocket.

Grunting, I reached behind me and pulled it out, flipping it open. He nodded and took it, feeling it in his hands first.

"Thanks," he said, taking off his shirt. He started to rip a strip of material from it, hacking away at it with the knife.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, curiously watching him. He sighed.

"It's to stop the bleeding. And if your so uncomfortable with it," he said, making a grunt as he pulled the material off, "then _you _can tie it." He handed the cloth to me. I stared at it, then looked back up at him. He rolled his eyes and turned around.

"Fine, I won't look ya pansy." I growled under my breath, fidgeting with the button on my pants. After successfully removing them (with a bit of trouble, seeing as it was difficult to move my leg), I put the strip of cloth around the wound and tied it tightly. Wincing, I barely managed to put my pants back on.

"I'm decent," I told him gruffly, looking away. He turned around to face me again, wiping off his brow.

"Looks like you got one on your shoulder too. Need me too look at it?" He was already cutting out another piece of shirt. I shook my head.

"I'll do it myself." I hesitated. "Th...Thanks for the cloth."

"No problem," he said, handing the second strip to me. I unbuttoned my shirt, trying to tie the strip along my shoulder blade. It proved to difficult, or rather impossible, for every time I reached back, a sharp pain was sent through my entire body. Seeing as I was having a bit of trouble, Wayne gave an audible sigh and ripped the cloth from my hand.

"Turn around." I gave him a look, and he made an about-face motion with his index finger. I sighed and turned around, giving in. I flinched as I felt his hand press against the wound. He secured the wrap snugly, then patted my opposite shoulder.

"Alright, done." I turned back around, rubbing my sore shoulder.

"Thanks," I said quietly, beginning to put my shirt back on. It was stained with blood. Great, _another_ thing to explain to Mother.

"No problem, Napier," he said, leaning back. He flicked the flashlight back off and placed it in his backpack, then he handed the knife back to me.

"Hey... Don't you have a cellphone or something?" I asked suddenly. He _was_ rich. He might at _least_ have one of those.

"Actually, lucky guy that I am, I left it on the table this morning."

"Great," I said sarcastically. "Excellent timing." We were both silent for a moment. I fidgeted with the buttons on my shirt nervously. I hated awkward silences.

"Hey... Jack." Jack? So he was back to that again? I looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He looked down.

"Jack... How... What happened to your... your mouth?" He looked up. "Did someone do that to you?" I blinked. Why would he ask something like that?

"I... don't like to talk about it," I told him very quietly, practically a mutter. He nodded.

"I understand... I was just...y'know. Worried." Wait. I felt my eyes grow twice their normal size. Wayne? Worried? About me? HA! He must have been joking. He had to be, right?

I smiled, closing my eyes as I chuckled quietly. "Worried, that's a good one."

"Hey, I'm human, you know. Just because we got off on the wrong foot doesn't mean a guy can't _worry _about ya." I looked at him.

"You know... You're... You're not such a bad guy after all." I saw him smile slightly in the dimness of the well.

"Yeah, you too." It was then that it happened. Right then and there. There, in the nearly pitch-blackness of the dry well, I felt lips press against mine. He'd kissed me. _Kissed _me. But the weirdest thing was... I'd kissed him back.

--

_Chapter four, completed! Finally. -sighs- Just so you know, Jack doesn't necessarily have feelings for Bruce. He's more like... experimenting. Maybe it was this "new-found Jack" that he had met in the recesses of Harley's office. He didn't really know... But like I said, this is a "JxB" story, AKA JokerxBatman (or JackxBruce if you prefer). It wont necessarily be constant throughout the whole thing, but Jack is trying new things. And BRUCE is the one that instigated it. Maybe he is too? You'll just have to find out in the chapters to come. Review please!_


	5. Freedom at Last

What in God's name was that? No seriously, what the hell?! I nearly jumped back after realizing what I had just _done_, and even though I couldn't see Bruce, I'm sure he did the _exact same thing_. Or at least, I hoped.

It wasn't actually that bad, but... God, I'm confused! I don't like this guy. I hate him, he hates me. That's the way to our lives. Bada bing, bada boom.

But it confused me even more, even beyond the fact that we'd just _kissed_. But the fact that we hated each other for so long, and then in one week we become...well... _close_.

Er, not close. Something else. Whatever it was, it wasn't hate.

Or was it?

This all seemed like one of those family sitcoms. Y'know, where something embarrassing happens, and then they both realize it was all some kind of joke.

Er, break the silence, break the silence.

"Er..." Damn it! God damn me and my loss for words. It looks like Bruce was feeling the same way. And the silence grew.

"Sorry," Bruce said, looking away. Embarrassment flooded my face, I could feel it. Thank goodness it was dark in here.

"D-Don't be," I told him, trying to ease_ his_ embarrassment as well. It wasn't going to help us. But what the hell _was_ that?!

It wasn't even that _bad_ really. Seeing as the only other person I kissed was my psychiatrist, it was actually kind of... _good_. No. You did _not_ just think that, Jack. Shut up, shut up, shut _up_! You just kissed a _guy_, not a _girl_ like Harley.A _guy_. I'm a _guy_. That would make us...

No. We're not. _I'm_ not. I could never be! Ever, ever, ever!

I wanted to wipe that from my mind. It didn't happen. Really, it didn't. He just fixed my wounds. He probably just asked a question and I forgot to answer it. That's it. That's why it's so silent in here.

No, that's wrong! We just kissed! I kissed a man! One that I _hate_, no less!

It wasn't really true that I hated Bruce. I always found him to be some sort of arrogant jerk, more like. Even though I never really _knew_ him, he and his buddies always teased me, ever since elementary. There was Bruce, of course, who found someone to pick on and _continued_ to do so throughout the rest of school. Then there was Rachel, the Do-Anything girlfriend of Bruce, who'd, well, do anything for him, include tease me despite her niceness, and who'd literally die for him if he gave her the chance. And there's Harvey Two-Face Dent, someone whom I've really not gotten to know much of at all but have come to hate from all of the teasing. I think he just teased me for the sake of his friend. You know how peer pressure can be.

But that reminded me of what Rachel said. Something about him not being such a bad guy... And from what I knew of him, without his friends, he was a pretty good guy.

It's like one of those Romeo and Juliet things, where they can only love in private and not in front of their families.

Wait. Did I just compare me and Bruce to Romeo and Juliet? ...If that's true, I sure as hell ain't Juliet.

Anyway, my point is that Bruce isn't really that bad of a guy. If it weren't for him being such a jerk with his friends, _we_ might actually be friends.

I think.

And so grew the silence, as I thought to myself. I was going to break the awkwardness, but instead I heard a car pull in.

"They're home, Bruce!" I said, perking up a bit. He did too.

"You're right." We looked at each other.

"HELP!!"

--

The woman who had found us was named Pamela Isley. After apology-on-apology, she invited us into her home for dinner as the least she could do. She was a really nice woman, too- she promised to pay for all the medical expenses and would put down the dog the second after we left if we wouldn't take it to the police. It was her cousin's dog, and she was taking care of it for him, so she'd tell him later what happened.

Anyway, Miss Isley was a rather peculiar woman. She was beautiful, yes, with long, red hair, and shining emerald eyes, but the strange thing was her house. It was _filled_ with plants. If she had a single one more crammed into that building, a monkey could mistake it for its tropical rain forest home. She really loved her plants, and it turned out that she was a scientist, more like a hobby-scientist, researching plants because she found them so interesting. She'd even discovered two new plants herself on one of her trips to the rain forest. She told us all of these things as we ate a delicious meal (a vegetarian one, how fitting) at her table.

"Thanks for the meal, Miss Isley," Bruce and I both told her after we ate. We had already helped her clean up the dishes and were ready to make our way out of there. The food was so good, and I was _so_ hungry, that I'd forgotten about getting home. Mother was probably wondering where I was, and if I had run away. After a spout like we had the previous night, it wouldn't be out of my way to do so, or so she might think.

"It was the least I could do," she said with a smile. "Really, I'm sorry about the dog. I'll pay for everything, Jack. And you too, Bruce, for your troubles."

"Really, its fine," Bruce said. I nodded.

"Yeah, I'll mend quickly. The wounds weren't that deep, anyway." Pamela nodded.

"Well, I sure hope so." It was after she said this that my eyes drifted to a little end-table near the stairs. On it stood a few pictures. And one of them was of... Harley?

"Miss Isley?" I began. "Is that... Harleen Quinzel?" Pamela looked to where my eyes were focused. She turned back to me.

"Yes! You know her?"

"That was what _I_ was wondering. She's the... psychiatrist at my school."

"Oh, yes, she really does enjoy her work at Arkham. She's my roommate." I blinked. Roommate? Harley didn't really strike me as someone to have a roommate. But I suppose she acted differently around other people than she did at school, for the... professionalism of it.

"Wow," I said, stepping over to the picture. I looked at Miss Isley, and she nodded. After her acceptance, I picked it up, looking at it. Harley seemed so fun and easy-going in that picture... That smile... I wished I could see her smile like that.

In the picture, she and Miss Isley were hugging each other, beaming brightly with their eyes closed, probably from the flash of the camera. They were fooling around, and it brought a smile to my face. _I _wanted to see her like that, fun-loving and all.

Wait, what was I thinking? I didn't care about her. She was my psychiatrist, whoop-dee-do. But... for some reason, I felt something deeper about her. It wasn't love, no, and it really wasn't friendship. A bond of some sort... Trust, maybe? Whatever it was, I liked the feeling.

No, I didn't, I didn't like feeling that way about people. If it was trust, then I didn't want it. If you don't trust people, they don't have to trust you, and it makes it all easier. Then it doesn't hurt, because you don't have to _break_ that trust.

I shook my head and set the picture down.

"Thanks for the dinner, Miss Isley," Bruce said. For him, I think it seemed a bit strange calling her "Miss Isley", because she was so young. She must have been around Harley's age, 25, 26, 27, in that area. Maybe they had met in college or something.

"Sorry again," she said. We both smiled.

"Well, we best be on our way. Good-bye," I said. Bruce gave a little nod of departure.

"Yeah, see you."

Miss Isley smiled and gave a deep nod. "Be safe."

--

_There you have it, folks! I brought in Poison Ivy. Don't worry, there's more of her to come! Also, there will be Scarecrow and Two-Face, and maybe some more of our favorite Gotham citizens. Tell me what you guys think, and what should happen next! Please review! Thanks for reading!_


	6. Revenge to Come

"Get out." These two words were the first ones I heard ever since entering my home that evening. It was already around 8 o' clock, and Father had greeted me just as I opened the door. His face wasn't a scowl, more like a disappointed look, a rarity in this house. Usually all I got was a backhand to the face and a finger pointing towards the exit.

But he didn't hit me. He only looked at me, saying, "get out". I hesitated for a moment, and Father spoke again.

"I don't want to know what happened, or where you were. Your mother and I are sick of you, so get out. Come back when you've thought about your priorities." With that, he shut the door in my face. I was utterly shocked that he didn't hit me at _all_, almost shocked to the point of _asking_ him, but I didn't; I only turned around and did exactly what Father wanted; I got out.

I didn't know where to go, so I decided to head back to town. We lived right next to town, only about half way towards the _real_ country, like... the _outskirts_ of town. It was quiet where we lived, but you could still see the lights of the city. I just walked down that path, focusing on my feet.

Where would I go? Maybe I'd just sleep on the bench at the bus stop like I did before. No, that was a pain, because when I woke up, it was raining and I was all soaked and aching. At least I wouldn't have to go to school like that, because it was Friday today. Thinking about school... Maybe I should head there. They have water fountains and a roof over my head. Yeah, school. I'd stay there.

If I sneaked in, I could stay back in the dark recesses near the lockers. Those office personnel never looked at the cameras anyway, and there were so many rooms- it was unlikely that I'd get caught.

Thinking about school... If Harley hadn't gone home yet, maybe she was still at school? I knew the teachers stayed late sometimes, a lot on Friday's so they could finish what they hadn't finished before. Maybe school psychiatrists did the same. I decided that I'd check on her. I don't know why... Just... Maybe someone to talk to, perhaps.

I creaked open the back door of the school. Unlocked, like it always was. They didn't lock it until they all left, I figured that out by myself. I crept down the hallway, stopping at a slightly-opened door marked "School Psychiatrist". The light was on. I gave a quiet knock to the door. No answer. At this, I leaned in to see if she was in there.

There she was, sprawled out over the table among paperwork galore. An empty cup of, perhaps, coffee sat on the corner of the desk near the lamp that hadn't been turned off. I stepped over quietly, about to shut off the lamp when I heard her speak.

"Mmph... don't... about you." At first I didn't understand what she meant, but then I noticed she was still sleeping. Talking in her sleep, I chuckled to myself about this. I bent down and picked up her jacket that had fallen off the back of her chair. I placed it around her shoulders, looking at her desk. On it was a notepad and some pens scattered about. Then I saw it- doodles. There were little drawings about... me? I smiled again to myself, trying not to make an audible laugh. She really must have felt something for me. There were little hearts with "J+H" written inside, and little stick people holding hands. It was almost cute enough to frame.

I looked up towards the couch. Maybe I'd sleep on there for the night. I'd write Harley a note, too, stating why I was sleeping there. I knew she'd understand. And besides, she was in debt to me. If she wanted to say something, she could, but blackmail would be fairly easy for me, and she'd wind up in jail. But neither of us wanted those things to happen, so this is where we stood. A forbidden love.

I ripped off a sheet of paper and took one of the pens in my hand. I scribbled down a few notes and set it right in front of her. Turning off the light, I then headed to shut the door. Then, giving a sigh, I retired to the couch for the rest of the night.

--

I awoke in a bit of a peculiar manner. I was still on the couch, but I was wrapped up in Harley's coat. She was gone, and those scattered papers were put away. But there was one note in the center of the desk. I stood up and walked over to read it.

_Jack,_

_We need to talk._

_Harley._

Although very short, the note got to its point. Underneath her signature was an address. It was the address to her, and Miss Isley's, house. I sighed. This again? Maybe I should stop by... Miss Isley might question it, but Harley probably told her about it once she got home. And I shouldn't deny her _twice_, really. Also, I needed a place to stay. And just for the sheer will of it, I decided to go.

Picking up the note, I realized it was heavier than it should be. Flipping it around, I noticed that there was a key taped to it. It must be the key to her house. I sighed, wrapping it up in the note before slipping it into my pocket. Hell, I might need it.

I walked out the door and headed off. It was strange, being so quiet in the halls of the school. The floors were a bit slippery, too; my guess was the janitors had waxed it. I sighed and exited out the back door, then made my way towards that house I'd been to just the night before.

I didn't even know what I was going to do once I got there, but I really needed someone to talk to, and Harley had offered it. Really, before the whole relationship thing was going on, I felt like I could tell her a lot of things- not that I didn't _now_, but that's not the point. She was just one of those people that you could talk to for hours, even if you knew that they really didn't care, they make it _seem_ like they really did. And they knew all the right things to say. The little "aww" when you say something bad that happened to you, the pat on the back they give you, and the comforting nod they give as if to say,_ it's gonna be alright_. I needed that assurance. Because no one else told me that it would be alright, I needed it. And Harley would give it to me.

I stopped in front of her house. It actually doesn't take that long to get there, I realized. Seeing no dog, I guessed that Miss Isley really did live up to her word. I wondered what she'd think of me coming here. Did she suspect something between us? Maybe Harley had told her about me before... I don't know, maybe it was things that girls, or maybe even just _friends_, did. How would I know? I've never had any.

I walked up to the door and decided to just knock. I didn't know if it was even the right time to be doing so- it was sort of early, but I wasn't sure what time it was. But as if it were expected, the door creaked open.

It was a rather beautiful sight. There stood Harley, in a loosely tied bathrobe with her blonde hair strewn down her shoulders. She wasn't wearing her glasses, either, and the top part of her robe was a little lose, as it hung around her left shoulder. She looked tired, not the kind like she just got up, but the kind that she'd been up for hours. Maybe she didn't get any sleep since she left the school. I hope she did; it wasn't very healthy not to.

"Jack, I'm glad your here," she said, stepping back so I could walk in. I did so, placing my shoes near a pile of other shoes next to the door. It was then that I realized how _I_ must look- with blood on my shirt and pants. She must have noticed too, though, for the second she turned around, she embraced me, saying;

"Jack, let's... get you some clothes."

After I changed into some sweat pants and a t-shirt, we had sat down on the couch to talk. It had turned out that Miss Isley, or "Red", as Harley called her, had already left for work. She was a botanist, of course. It truly fit her.

"God, I was so worried when I got home. Red said you were... attacked by Julian." Julian must have been the dog's name. I nodded.

"Yeah, but I'm fine, really. I'll stitch myself up later... Bruce already helped me fix my wounds as good as he could yesterday."

"I'm sorry, really..." she said, leaning against me. It was strange. The last time we'd met was when I'd held a knife to her neck, and now it's as if it never even happened. She was a very forgiving woman, perhaps. Or maybe she wasn't... scared. Maybe she was... attracted in some strange, sadistic way? Maybe that was the true Harley.

Again, I don't see Harley being like that either. Maybe she had all of these different sides to her... A professional one, a dark one, and a happy, bouncy, giggly one, like in the picture. Harley Quinn was quite the enigma.

And I decided to play her like a fiddle.

"Harley... What are you really like?" I asked, looking down at her. She looked up, pulling away slightly from me.

"What do you mean, Jack?" I smiled.

"I mean, why do you act differently towards me than you do around others? Like... in that picture." I pointed towards the photo that sat on the counter. She looked over it, then back towards me.

"Well, I... I don't know. I have to be..."

"Professional? I thought we were friends?" I rubbed my hand along her cheek. Really, she was quite easy to take advantage of. I didn't know why, but... It was sort of... _fun_.

"W-We are, Jack..." I wrapped my arm around her.

"Good, Harley," I said with a grin, giving her a peck to the forehead. I rubbed her long, blonde bangs away from her face, behind her head. She smiled.

"I'll be more easy-going if you want, Mistah J," she said coyly, giving a little wink. Mr. J? Where had that come from? It was cute, nonetheless. I could get used to that.

"I'd like that, Cupcake," I told her with equal childishness, caressing my fingers through her hair. She leaned up against me and closed her eyes. I could feel her gentle breathing across my neck; it tickled. I flinched a bit and rested my neck on her head. For some reason, I don't know why, but... it gave me _comfort_ to be close to her like this. It wasn't even something sexual; it was more like... a parent-to-child relationship. And for some strange reasoning, I felt like the parent.

What _I_ needed was a parent. Someone to hold me, to comfort me, and to love me. That's what Harley had done up until now. But now... Now the tables had turned. I gave that comfort, that _love_ back to _her_. And it felt... _good_.

It was then that I thought of _my_ parents.

"You said you'd do anything for me, right?" I asked her. She looked up at me.

"Yes, Mistah J. Anything." I smirked. I _hated_ my parents. I _loathed_ them. I wanted to get revenge. And Harley...well, she'd help me do it.

--

_There, a surprise ending! Ooh, what's Jack up to now! The Joker is making his appearance... Jack Napier no more! I hope I made him change slow enough... I didn't want things to be onset to quickly... But anyway. Tell me what you guys think! I wanna know where this story should go! I read your reviews, and, like I said before, EAT THEM WITHOUT MILK! I looooove reviews. I'd DIE for reviews. Seriously. If you review, I will make you a cookie of your choice! And... Don't worry, I won't put Smilex in it (coughthistimecough). Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!_


	7. Decisions, Decisions

**Note: **This is a note to my readers, just clearing up a few things. You'll know who I'm talking to. 1) I did the dog thing on purpose. I remember you telling me that story. Go easter eggs! 2) I've read "A Child Called It", and I've also read the sequel (what's it called again?). Dave Pelzer's story makes my heart sink. I semi-based it off of that... That's actually the first thing I thought of when writing this story! Especially about him sleeping on a cot in the garage. That part touched me deeply in the sequel (I think that's where he mentions it). Awesome to see someone else who's read it! 3) I LOVE MISTAH J!

Okay, on with the story.

--

Planning. Getting revenge on someone sure involved a lot of planning. There was the method of revenge, the strength, the humiliation... There was so much to consider. One thing I _did_ know without having to plan was the fact that I wanted it to be the most excruciating thing my parents have ever experienced, to prove what _I_ had to go through all of these years. Of course, no kind of torture could _ever_ amount to that, so I'd go with as much as I could possibly compare to. Whatever I did, they'd be _dead _when I got finished with them.

It was simple, really. I'd kill them, and not get caught. It couldn't _possibly_ be that hard, if you just planned things carefully enough the first time. You had to get detailed... Down with the nitty-gritty, and then you'd be all set. You could get away with things if you were patient.

I knew this too well. There was so much I got away with at home... Nothing to the extent of _murder_, of course, but things like stealing wouldn't be out of my comfort zone.

Murder was now in my comfort zone.

My parents _deserved _to die. They had no right to treat me the way that they did... no right at all. I went through 17 whole years of pain, and they would pay.

"Life's a joke, Harley. I was always at the butt of it. But, now my parents... _They'll_ be the punchline to this one. It'll be the funniest joke you've ever heard!" I sat at the kitchen table with Harley discussing my parents' demise. Her roommate, Miss Isley, worked pretty much 24/7, with the exception of Sundays, and even when she was home she was studying her plants, so we'd have plenty of time to discuss this in private. Harley explained to her that I needed extensive psychological help, so she'd be happy to do it in the comfort of her own home, seeing as _I_ had no comfort in _my _home. Miss Isley had easily agreed to it without any complaint.

And here we sat.

"That's right, Mistah J! The funniest joke ya ever heard! Good one!" She was always supportive of me. She had become that bubbling, humorous girl I'd seen in the picture right before my eyes, and I was glad for it. She was completely mine, now, willing to do everything on my whim.

"I'm sick and tired of being laughed at, Harley!"

"Sick and tired, Mistah J!"

"I'm not gonna be the butt of the joke any longer!"

"Nevermore!"

"From now on, my parents have taken my place as second banana!"

"You are second banana no more!"

"Just wait 'till they get the punchline! It'll kill 'em!"

"That's right, Mistah J! It'll kill them!" We shared a laugh. She was so...comforting. She was someone you could laugh with, cry with, do just about _anything_ with, and she'd support you the entire way.

She smiled and poked my nose. "You're quite the joker, Mistah J." All was quiet. A slow smile rose on my face.

"That's it, Harley!" I said with a grin as I grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. "You're a genius!"

"I am? I mean... I am! ...For what?" she asked, blinking. I leaned in closer to her and gave her a smooch on the lips, then shoved her away. I stood up triumphantly, clenching my own fist.

"Quite the joker... The Joker." I looked at her, smiling. "From now on... I am... The Joker!" I beamed as I grabbed her again by the shoulders. She was grinning too, sharing my joy.

"The Joker and Harley Quinn! It's perfect, Mistah J!"

"Perfect..." I said, repeating her words. "That's right, Cupcake. It's perfect."

--

The next few days went as planned. I didn't see much from Bruce (which was good- save me the embarrassment) or his buddies. I didn't really see much of _anyone_. I was too focused... Too focused on the plan. Every day, I'd break out in a fight or meander off, or talk of dark things- anything to get me sent to "Miss Quinzel's" office. There, we'd discuss the plan. After school, I went straight to Harley's house to talk about the plan as well. Everything fit together like a puzzle- the events unfolded perfectly. Piece by piece, it worked out.

Then one day, everything fell apart.

We were in Harley's house. Miss Isley was on a trip to the Amazon once again for research. She would be gone for a good three weeks, giving us plenty of time to plan. That particular day had started off well. I'd thought up the perfect addition to our plan.

The method.

"Cupcake, I've thought up something you're gonna love," I told her, leaning back in my chair with my arms crossed behind my head. I was already beaming to myself. It was just too perfect.

"What is it, Puddin'?" Harley said. She'd taken up the new nickname. Again, it was cute. I suddenly uncrossed my arms and leaned forward.

"We _poison_ them. But not just any poison... A special kind of poison."

I'd always been very interested in chemistry. I had actually once belonged to a science club. I would have still probably been if it weren't for the fact that I absolutely didn't fit in with the rest of the group, and the fact that when Mother found out, she immediately stopped me.

Anyway, I'd find cleaning solutions around the house, usually toxic ones. I preferred ones that could cause a lot of damage, for they were very interesting to combine with things. I'd even figured out that you could make a deadly gas with ammonia and bleach, at the cost of our cat.

One day, at night, thinking of plans, I'd thought up the perfect idea that I'd use my chemical knowledge to my advantage. I'd make a sort of... potion.

There was a toxic waste at one of the old ethanol plants that they discarded in big vats in the outskirts of town. I'd found it interesting ever since I'd heard about it, and had to immediately get my hands on some. I sneaked into the facility and stole about a water bottle's worth of it.

I'd caught some animals to test it on- squirrels, chipmunks, anything that was stupid enough to fall into my traps that I'd set out. I decided to test small amounts of the toxic waste on the animals skin to figure out if it was too toxic and would just kill them or if it would do something else.

I found something downright incredible. The toxic waste that I'd dripped onto the squirrel's back had dyed the fur green and bleached the skin a ghastly white.

It was perfect. It reminded me of some sort of clown... Strange colored, almost humorous looking. And that's when I thought of it.

I wanted it to smile.

I wanted the creature to be _smiling_ when it died. I didn't know how to do it, but I wanted it to smile. As I said, the world is a big joke. And my parents would _die laughing at it_.

I didn't know any kind of chemical that could make you smile when you died, but I knew of one person that might.

"What kind of special poison, Puddin'?" Harley had asked me, tilting her head to the side. I smiled, holding her close to me.

"The world is a joke, Harley. My parents are gonna die laughing at it. I have part of the solution, but someone as the other end of it. The _smile_."

"The _smile_?" Harley had repeated. "Like, laughing at the joke, Mistah J?"

"Exactly, my sweet," I told her with a grin. "That person is a little man by the name of Johnathan Crane."

--

_There you go! I'm bringing in the Scarecrow! How do you like the change? He's not __**quite**__ there yet, but he's getting there... Things are shaping up just how I wanted them to! Sorry about the wait- I was shopping, and I couldn't think of anything to write at 1 in the morning! Anyway, thanks for reading! Please review!_


	8. False Hopes

Johnathan Crane was a strange man. He was very think, with toothpick-like arms and legs, and a face that looked like life was drained from it; not sickly looking, just thin. Yet, he was strong- and smart. He loved to mess with chemicals, even more than _I_ did. And his parents, being lawyers, could afford proper equipment. He knew everything there _was_ to know about chemistry, and thats why I chose him to ask about my little "dilemma".

I decided to ask him if he could help me right after lunch. During break, he could always be found in the science room, messing with his chemicals. The teacher knew him so well and that he always came there that she could trust him enough to go eat lunch in the cafeteria as he worked in there. It would be a perfect opportunity to talk to him in private.

I had developed these thoughts as I stood in the lunch line. Harley had been putting money in my account so I could actually eat- usually I'd have to find scraps from table to table or sometimes even in the _garbage_, although, being modest, I'd do it after everyone had left.

Walking out of the line with my tray I looked over towards Bruce's table. There were his friends, Harvey and Rachel, talking to each other, Harvey using his arms to motion wildly and Rachel nodding every so often, a big grin on her face. Then, there was Bruce, sitting with his arm raised. Wait. Was he waving at me? He was motioning for me to come over. I pretended not to see him and walked over to sit at an empty table, but he followed me. I hadn't spoken to him since the incident, and I hadn't planned to, either.

"Hey, Jack, why don't you come sit by us?" he asked, kneeling on one leg next to me. I looked at him.

"You want me... to sit by you. Ha ha, very funny."

"Look, Jack, I don't want to keep fighting. I'm trying to make amends with you. I've always been an ass to you... and I want to make it up. Come on, what do you say?" I looked down at my tray. Part of me really wanted to sit by him, to be his friend. But the other part didn't believe a word of what he was saying.

I grunted and decided to do it anyway- if it was just a joke, who cares? My pride was at about zero right now anyway; it didn't matter what I did to mess it up.

I stood up and followed him back to his spot. Of course, Two-Face and Rachel gave me, and Bruce, a stupefied look.

"Harvey, Rachel, I asked Jack to sit by us," Bruce said, sitting down. I hesitated, but pulled up in the chair next to him. Rachel gave a weird look, but nodded.

"Um, alright, Bruce." She gave me a sort of sad look, then placed her hand to her mouth to bite profusely at her nails.

Two-Face, on the other hand, looked at me for a moment, taking out a coin. I saw that one side was normal, and the other side was scarred. He flipped it and set it on his arm, removing his hand to look at it. Then, as if he didn't do anything out of the ordinary, he slipped the coin back into his pocket and leaned back in his chair.

"So, Bruce, you two friends now or something?" he asked, giving me a look of slight confusion. I got weird looks from plenty of people, so this didn't really bother me.

"I guess you could say that," Bruce said, taking a drink from his glass. Of course, it was brought from home.

"Well, Jack," Two-Face said, sitting forward. He put out his hand. "We may have got off on the wrong foot but... If Bruce is your friend, then I might as well be to." I hesitated, then shook his hand. He gave a smile. He'd grow up to be a politician- I could see it now. He had that sort of...deceiving charm, the kind that could be deadly if misused... I liked this guy.

"Me too, Jack... I... I want to be your friend," I heard Rachel say. She was looking at me with a bit of a worried look, her fingers still pressed against her lips. I gave her a nod. What was with all the sudden politeness? It wasn't believable. Something was up. Something was _really_ up. And I had the feeling it was Bruce who was behind it all.

--

"Hey, Crane?" I creaked open the door. There, as usual, Johnathan Crane sat at the table, a few beakers and papers scattered about. He was just dropping a drip of blue liquid with a syringe into a beaker filled with green liquid, but he'd stopped when I'd said his name.

"Napier," he said quietly, going back to his work. I closed the door behind be and sat across for him, forcing him to look at me.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly, removing his glasses. Those piercing blue eyes looked at me, _through_ me.

"I need a bit of assistance," I said, leaning my arm on the table. "I'm making a little...potion, and I need your help." He gave me a look that said "go on", so I inhaled and continued. "Do you have anything that'd bring a...smile, to your face?" His brow lowered, those eyes still staring at me. He paused, then said:

"I think I have just the thing." With that, he reached into his backpack, pulling out a giant book with the hand-written words "CHEMICALS" on it. He flipped through it, stopping at a page, pointing his finger at it.

"Smilex... It's... difficult, to get, but it's out there." I gave him a look, and he gave a sigh. "...And illegal."

"That's more like it," I told him with a grin. I could feel the corners of my Glasgow smile stretching a bit, painfully.

"What do I get in return?" he asked. I looked down, then back at him.

"Depends on what you want." He smiled softly, giving a half-chuckle, then put his glasses back on.

"Rachel Dawes."

"Done."

--

Crane had always had a crush on Rachel- it was kind of obvious. He'd bully her around, pretend he didn't care about her opinion at all, the _obvious_ signs of a crush. Strangely, Rachel was so incredibly stupid that she didn't have a clue. But Crane was messing in dangerous territory. She was taken by, of course, Bruce, and he wasn't really someone you wanted to mess with. I didn't know how to do it, and I didn't really want to cross Bruce (not because I was afraid of him or something, but because he was my only chance of having a real friend) but whatever I had to do, I needed that Smilex, so I'd get Rachel somehow...

--

_Hey, sorry about the delay, folks! I've been debating on where to leave this one off at... Anyway. I got Harley Quinn; Preludes and Knock-Knock Jokes, so I've been getting a bunch of muse! I might start writing a story just about her, too... Hmm. Should I? Also, where should this story go! I need major help... Writer's block has plagued my brain for a few days, so I need to know basically __**how**__ Jack is going to get Rachel to date John. Anyway, thanks for all of your wonderful comments- I read every one of them! Thank you for being such a great audience! And please review!_


	9. Bittersweet Romance

The chance to get Rachel came quickly. After school, as I was walking to Harley's house (my current residence... I'm sure my parents didn't care where I was, anyway), I saw her. She was standing alone at the corner. She seemed kind of cold- it was raining, and she didn't have an umbrella. Neither did I, but that wasn't the point. She was shaking and shivering- looks like she didn't bring a jacket, either. No matter how badly I wanted to get to my warm safe haven, this was probably going to be my only chance to get my Smilex.

And what better way to do it than blackmail?

"Hey, Rachel," I said casually, walking up to her. She looked at me. She was biting her nails again, but quickly stopped the minute I arrived.

"Hi...Jack." She looked away, shivering as she clutched her messenger bag a bit tighter. I looked off into the distance for a moment.

"You know, Rach," I began, leading her to the alley. "Now that Bruce decided to be nice to me, I wanted to make friends with you and Harvey... But it's awful hard to get passed all that teasing through the years..." She looked at me. It was perfect. I loved playing the guilt trip.

"I'm so sorry, Jack... I want to make it up to you, _really_, I do... I just... don't know how I can." She started to bite her nails again.

"That's a rather unattractive habit, don't you think?" I said, placing my hands around hers, slowly bringing it to rest at her side again. I let go. She looked down with a saddened face. She was so fragile... Reminded me of the first time I blackmailed Harley. But at least _she_ had some backbone. Rachel was just... weak.

"What...what can I do? T-To make it up to you..." she asked quietly. I smiled and bent down to her height- I was a fair amount taller than her.

"I made a promise to a friend... He'd really like to have a date with you."

"I couldn't possibly!" She stuttered. "I... I just... I can't."

"Come on. Just one little date- it wouldn't do any harm." I lifted her head to look me in the eye. "You wouldn't want something to _happen_ now, would you?"

"A-Are you threatening me?" she asked, her eyes wide. I grinned.

"By no means, _ma chérie_," I told her, poking her on the nose. "It's just better to... prepare for the worst. _Oui_?"

"Y-Yes," she said quietly. "I...I'll do it."

"_C'est bon_," I told her. "Nice choice." I stood up and turned to walk off. From the corner of my eye I saw her slide down the brick wall, head in her hands. Project Get-The-Girl has been accomplished. Now onto Mission Smilex.

--

When I arrived at home, I expected to see Harley greet me right at the door. It was a Wednesday, and she worked only until noon, so she was always home before me. But when I didn't see any sign of her, I began to get a bit worried. Hearing voices coming from her bedroom, I decided to sneak over and listen in. Curiosity killed the cat. Er... Joker.

"I know it's just... It's really hard to live up to his expectations." That was Harley's voice. Someone replied, but it was muffled. Looks like she was on the phone. I pressed my ear up against the door.

"Yeah... He's just so...demanding. I mean, every time I talk to him its like Harley, do this. Harley, do that. Harley, Harley, Harley. Can't he ever pull his own weight?!" Who could she be talking about? No way in _hell_ was she talking about me... Or was she? I lowered my brow.

"God, Pam, I don't know where else to turn. I can only do so much for a guy!" That little brat! I barely ask her to do anything! The only thing I expect her to do is cheer me on along the way. She belonged to _me_, of course, she shouldn't be complaining! That ungrateful little...

"You're right. Thanks, Pam. I knew I could count on you. Thanks for being such a great friend!" I growled. Great friend, great friend?! I _hated_ her now! I hated that stupid Miss Isley and her idiotic, immature, deceiving little son of a...

_Click_! I heard the phone hang up. Now I'd give her a piece of my mind. Don't play with fire, Harley, or you might get burned.

"Cupcake, who was that?" I said as sweetly as I could manage through clenched teeth as I opened the door.

"Oh, Puddin'! I didn't know you were here!" That smile could only be hiding her nervousness! She didn't know that I was there the whole time! She was caught in the act, red-handed, and _hiding_ it, no less, with that phony-baloney grin plastered on her face!

"That's right you didn't," I said with a growl. "Otherwise maybe you wouldn't have been talking bad about me to your little green friend." I stepped over to her slowly as I spoke. Anger welled up inside of me... It was infuriating!

"What do ya mean, Puddin'? I don't know what you're--" Too late. It was all a blur. Before I knew it, I had my hands wrapped around her neck.

"Don't know what I mean? Yeah right, you don't! You don't have a _clue_ what I mean, do you! DO YOU?!" I clenched my fists tighter. She deserved it. She _didn't_ deserve to _live_. She was as bad as... my mother.

But the surprising thing was... she didn't fight back.

"Wasn't... talking... about you..." She stuttered. "Talking...about... Father..." I immediately let go. So she wasn't talking about me?

She sat upright, rubbing her neck. "I visited my dad earlier today..." she said quietly. "The thing is, I haven't seen him in a long time. We sort of left on... bad terms. But Mom left a message on the answering machine saying that he was sick, so I decided to visit him. No man deserves to die alone..." She looked down at her legs. "But when I went, he shoved me out- didn't want a thing to do with me – or my mom. She went back to her house, and I went back to mine. I just called Pam to tell her about it... She's my best friend, you know?" She sniffled. "I didn't want to worry you, Puddin'. I want you to be happy. When you're happy, I'm happy."

"Why... Why does that make you happy? Why aren't you mad at me?" I asked. I lowered my brow in frustration. "Why... Why do you... I just tried to... Oh God. I just tried to kill you!" I turned away from her, curling up. How could I be so cruel?! I've never killed someone before.. I was already planning to kill my parents. What was to come next? I had become a monster!

"Well..." she said, wrapping her arms around me. "That's the way love works."

"You... you love me?" I asked. I was absolutely confused.

"Of course I love you, Puddin'! Why else would I be helping you like this? Why would I stick by your side... Through the thick and thin- the Joker and Harley Quinn!" She smiled and kissed my forehead. Love. She... she loved me? How could anyone love someone like _me_?

The strangest thing was... I think I loved her too.

How could this be happening? I hated it. No one _ever_ loved me. I _never_ loved anyone. But this feeling... I thought I loved Harley. But I also wanted to _kill_ her for it.

There were so many things... With Bruce kissing me... And Harley... So much was going on- I couldn't stand it!

"Harley I..." I looked away. "I'm just... frustrated."

"I know, Puddin'." She rubbed her hand along my back. "It's hard. But we'll get through it. We make a pretty good team, don't you think?" She lay her head against my shoulder for a moment, then patted my back and stood up. "Now, wasn't there a little devious plan for a little... revenge?" I smiled.

"That's right, my dubious deviant. And for our plan, we'll need a little more... toxin," I told her, standing as well. I picked her up bridal-style and kissed her. She smiled and pointed forward.  
"To the ethanol plant! Onward, march!"

--

_Here's another little chapter! This is the first real sign of the Joker's love for Harley... I hope you enjoyed that bittersweet moment! The Joker's getting a bit more violent, too... He's getting there! I'd say he's around a...7 out of 10. No, 6. Somewhere in there. The climax of the story is coming! From now on, it'll all be a bit more hair-raising. I hope you enjoyed it, but so-long for the mushy-gushy things! It'll be a bit more... action, from now on. Thanks for reading, and I hope you had fun! Please review and tell me what you think!_


	10. Accidental Disfiguration

The time was 11:30 pm. Johnathan was to meet us at the ethanol plant at precisely midnight with the Smilex. I'd called him, and he'd confirmed that Rachel had agreed to a date, so he would deliver my half of the deal when I wished. Not questioning how in the world he had gotten it so quickly- my thoughts were that he must have went right after school to wherever he gets his potions- we treaded down the gravel path, passed the gate labeled "no trespassing- violators will be prosecuted."

"Mistah J," I heard Harley whisper. She was following not too far behind me. "Isn't there security around here?"

"Quiet, Cupcake," was all I told her, in a whisper, making a right turn. There was a giant vat- open, strangely - where they put the waste products from the ethanol and other products they made. When it all mixed together- that's what made it so... disfiguring.

"There it is," I told her, pointing. It was dark, so she probably couldn't see me anyway, but I didn't care.

"Alright," she whispered, handing me my bottles. I was going to fill a few of them up with the toxin.

"Wait." I said. "We need to wait for Crane."

"No need to wait," I heard someone say in a quiet voice. Turning around, squinting under the moon's light, I saw that Johnathan had already arrived.

"How long have you been here?"

"About five minutes," he replied, holding out a container. "Here's your Smilex. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be on my way. But I do hope to wonder what you're going to do with it." I turned to him.

"You can't hold this over my head. If something were to... slip out, there are a few things that _I_ could accuse you of. One being an accomplice. It was _you_ who got the Smilex, after all."

"Alright, alright, Napier, fine. I'm not going to bring it up again. I got Rachel, and you got your poison. From now on, this meeting is forgotten." With that, Johnathan turned to leave. I gave Harley the Smilex.

"Just wait here, alright? I'll go get the toxin, and we'll go back home. Okay, Cupcake?"

"Yes sir, Sargent J!" she said, giving me a little salute. I smiled softly and walked over to the giant vat.

It was an enormous, towering thing, with danger and warning signs plastered all over it. Surveying the thing, I noticed that there was a little rusted out ladder reaching to the top, probably to keep the maintenance up on it, or something. Whatever the purpose was, I'd use that like I did before to get up there.

Climbing up slowly, I was careful not to slip off. It was always a little slippery to get up there, and from a height like this, you could easily break something. Shaking my head, I slowly reached the top.

Inside the vat was a green, bubbling liquid. It looked like one of those things on the movies, like a giant witch's cauldron. I'd gathered it before. You had to be careful.

I took out my glove and tried to slip it on. You needed to use a glove because otherwise, it'd change your hand like it did to that squirrel. But instead of getting it on, the glove slipped and fell into the vat. The green liquid had almost submerged it completely. I tried to grab the tip that was sticking out with my bare fingers but, stupidly, I wasn't hanging on tight enough and...well... you can guess what happened next.

I struggled for air. What had happened? Where was I? It took me a moment to realize that I'd fallen in. And that burning sensation... My eyes, my nose, my mouth, they all burned. This was definitely not water. I gave a yelp for help, and when I had surfaced, I'd heard the beginning of the words "Mistah J!" but, I'd fallen under again. Regaining a bit of my strength, I'd grabbed onto the top of the vat and climbed out, sliding down the steps. Rolling around on the grass I tried to get the acid out of my eyes, but rubbing them only made it worse. I tried to be as quiet as I could because of security, too. Oh, me and my ideas.

"Mist--"

"Don't touch me!" I told her. I didn't want her to get burned too. If it could be helped. I heard footsteps. Seeing as I couldn't open my eyes, I guessed Harley had ran off to get some water. I tried crawling towards her steps, but gave up and clutched my eyes again.

Seeing as it was an ethanol plant, they needed a water source to make their fuel with, so there was a giant river nearby. Harley must have filled up the bottles with water and dumped them on me, for I felt a splash (no pun intended) of relief on my face. The burning sensation had subsided. I groaned and sat upright, getting the strength again. Harley had run off and come back with more water, and had continued to pour it on me. I fell to my back again and let her clean me off.

"M-M-Mistah J! Are you alright?!" she asked after finishing pouring bottle after bottle of water on me.

"Of course, Cupcake, I'm just dandy," I managed to say with sarcasm as I cringed. The pain was going away. Then it hit me. The squirrel.

"Get the flashlight."

"Wh-What?" Harley stuttered.

"Just get the damn flashlight, woman!" I yelled as quietly as I could through clenched teeth, rubbing at my eyes some more. Ugh. A little pain still plagued them.

Harley had dug in the bag we used to carry our supplies in and pulled out a small flashlight which she handed to me. I flicked it on, holding out my arm.

To my horror, I saw the skin was bleached a ghastly white, and the hair on my arm was dyed green.

"God damn it!" I threw the flashlight as far as I could, turning away. I pounded my fists into the ground. "God damn it! God fucking damn it!" Slam. Slam. Slam. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"I said don't touch me!" I screamed at her, swatting her hand away. How could this have happened?! How the hell could my own plans have backfired?!

"P-Puddin', I'm..."

"Just shut up, okay? Just shut up!" Damn it. This was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. But what was done was done. There was nothing I could do now. I'd just have to deal with it. Now, I sort of know what it's like for those people who are in some sort of an automobile accident and come out alive but with half their face gone. It happens all of a sudden, but you can't go and get those scraps of your face and put it back on like a puzzle, just like _I_ couldn't rewind time and stop myself from falling in. We were stuck the way we were, and that was that. As time passed, you could get over it. No doubt about it.

"I'm..."

"I know," Harley said, sitting down next to me. Now that my eyes were focused, I could see her looking at me with one of those I'm-so-sorry-for-you sort of looks.

"What the hell am I going to tell people?" I asked her, turning my head away, not really expecting an answer. I felt a hand rub through the locks of now green hair atop my head.

"That you had an accident with the bleach while doing laundry?" she asking jokingly. We looked at each other and laughed, half-heartedly because we knew the severity of the situation.

"Like I said before, Harley... Life's a joke. Looks like I was at the receiving end it this time," I told her. I gave a mental sigh. Maybe it was karma. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to get in the way of my plan. My parents still deserved to die, and nothing would change that.

--

_This one was a bit shorter, but its done! I'm sorry for the slight delay- I was at my grandmother's for the weekend, only to come back to see my review page. It was a HUGE disappointment! I was very angry! Only __**one **__review ALL WEEKEND! Come on! It made me mad. But I still love you guys. I want to hear what you think of my story so far! Please please PLEASE review! I can not emphasize how much I want you to review enough! REVVIIEEEWW! OR I WILL SEND MY MUTANT ATTACK CHINCHILLAS ON YOU!_


	11. The Final Charade

**A/n**: _To PeriwinklexPrecision – Thanks for mentioning that! I bet that's why I didn't get reviews. I just started, so I never even thought about that possibility. Also, another note to you, I'm reading your story and will review soon! It's awesome so far, let me tell you. Okay anyway, thanks again!_

_To everyone- Thanks for reading thus far and I hope you continued to read on! Many of you were wondering about the Joker going to school, etc- you'll find all that out in this chapter, alright!_

_To Eno, Best friend and love of my life (lol)- Easter's coming soon! I'll hide some easter eggs in the chapters to come. See if you can catch them. ;3_

I opened my eyes. It was morning. The sun shone through the blinds in little stripes, glistening on the baby blue sheets. I yawned, checking the clock. Looks like I had slept in from last night- it was nearly 3:00 pm. I'd missed school entirely. Seeing as Harley was gone, though, she must have went. She _did_ have a job.

To confirm my assumptions, a note sat on the end table near the alarm clock.

_Went to school; be back later, Puddin'_

_-Harley_

I took the note and tossed it into the trash, rolling back over to sleep some more. I'd gotten maybe 12 hours of sleep, but I was still exhausted. Getting burned in chemical waste could really take a toll on a guy.

I wondered what this was going to do to me. By no means could I ever go back to school- I looked ridiculous. I'd have to carry out the plan and go from there. No matter what I did, I was different now. I wasn't Jack Napier. I was the Joker.

Every villain needs a trademark, right? Maybe I'd continue the life of crime. Really, if I succeeded with this one, it might come rather easy to me. Didn't know what I'd get into- more murders? Theft? What else was there to do. Murder specifically peaked my interest. But I'd only do it to those who deserved it, like my parents.

"Knock, knock," came a voice from outside the door. I groaned mentally, cracking my neck slightly.

"Who's there?" I replied dully with a yawn.

"Joanna."

"Joanna who?"

"Joanna see your new partner in crime?" With that, the door slid open. In the doorway stood none other than Harley, leaning against the framework with one leg bent and the other stock straight. She was wearing a skin-tight red and black jester suit, fully equipped with a hat and matching shoes. The colors inverted from everything on the hat down. She smiled at me, giving a little wink.

"Whaddya think, Puddin'?"

"I think you look ridiculous," I replied shortly. Well, I shouldn't have been talking. She slunk over to me, crawling once she got on the bed.

"What else should your accomplice be? You said yourself that the world was a joke. I'm only tryin' to make the best of it, Puddin'." She curled up to me almost like a cat. "And I'm going to need a disguise if I'm gonna help you with the plan."

"You're not going to be involved with it, Harley," I told her gruffly. "It's something I have to do by myself." I didn't want her to mess this up! Only _I_ would get the satisfaction of killing my parents. Not Harley. Only me.

"Come on, Mistah J," she whined in my ear. "Pleeeeease? Harley will be a good girl, she promises." The way she said her r's and l's as w's was just too much. It was all so... _cute_.

"Tonight," I said with a sigh. "We'll go tonight. But you'd better be as good as you say."

"Yippee!" She said with a giggle, wrapping her arms around me. "Thanks, Puddin'! I'll be the best accomplice you've ever had!"

--

The rest of the day went as it should've. Harley and I had dinner around 6 as if there was nothing peculiar going on later that night. After that, I retired for a while to watch a bit of television. Channel 3, GCN, the Gotham City News. I noticed something strange.

"...the caped crusader defeated another group of thugs today who were involved in a jewel theft and hostage holding of the jewelry store's manager Audrey Crusoe..." The woman on the television said.

"Turn it up," I told Harley. She nodded and pushed the volume button a few times.

"...Who is this masked vigilante who calls himself "the Batman"? What is he hiding behind that mask?"

"Why you so interested in that, Puddin'? It's just some idiot dressin' up like a bat to protect Gotham's poor ol' citizens. It won't last."

"I get a strange vibe from this guy, Harley. Hand me that remote." She tossed me the remote for the television. I rewound it (the great wonders of TiVo) and paused on the picture of "the Batman's" face.

"Look at that, Cupcake. I feel like I know this guy. Look at the shape of the mouth."

"You're paying too much attention. It's just one of the three million people in this town. Who's to say it's some person you never met in your entire life?" She doubted me. I knew this guy, though. I had the feeling. I just couldn't place _who_ it was.

--

It was 1:00 am. Everything was pitch black, except for the stars and the silvery moon shining up above. It gave Harley and I enough light to see our way through the forest into the land I used to live on. There stood that rickety old shack with the broken side paneling and one shattered window where my baseball had flown into and we'd never gotten fixed. I'd gotten one of the worst beatings of my life for that.

The moth-chewed curtains still hung in the shattered window, blowing in the slight breeze. You could hear the leaves flutter at the same time as the curtain swayed.

"This is your house?" Harley asked. "Looks like its haunted." She'd added white face paint and black lipstick to add to her jester-like look. Absentmindedly, I thought she looked like a mime.

"Wonderful, ain't it," I told her sarcastically, walking around towards the back, Harley following me. I reached under the mat and pulled out a key.

"Typical," I heard Harley say. "I do the same thing." I sort of ignored her and put the key in the lock, turning it. It gave a click. Putting the key back in its place, I stepped inside, Harley not too far behind.

I hadn't been here in nearly a month- but I'm sure my parents didn't care. It looked the same as ever- the ashtray overfilled with cigarettes, booze bottles scattered on the ground, the TV left on... My father lay sleeping in the recliner, a beer bottle in hand. I turned to Harley. She reached into the bag, pulling out a bottle of ammonia and the concoction of the toxic waste mixed with the Smilex. She also handed me a cloth rag. I dipped the rag in the ammonia, then walked over to Father. I placed the rag over his nose and mouth, knocking him out. Then, I bent down to his height and looked him in the eye.

"Man, you look wasted, Father. Can't hurt to have another drink, now, could it? Oh, don't be so humble. I _insist_. I made this drink from the finest of materials. Now, don't disappoint me. How does it taste?" With that, I pressed the bottle to his lips and poured my improved Smilex into his mouth. Chuckling to myself, I released it and closed the cap.

"Ooh, looks like you had a bit of an allergic reaction. Was your hair always that green?" I ruffled my hands through my father's receding hairline.

"Ooh, you look pale. Well, I'll leave you be. Might wanna get that checked out." I stood up, fixing my glove as I turned to Harley.

"Looks like Mother's still KO'ed from last night's stand with Jack Daniels. We might just have to give her a little visit too." With that, I turned to the stairway, heading up it slowly. I heard Harley following behind me, tripping on a step. Clumsy idiot. But she was cute, you had to admit.

Mother, just as I had suspected, hadn't heard Harley and I come in; she was laying in her bed with one arm hanging off the edge, cigarette still placed loosely between her fingers.

_"One day she's going to start a fire," _I thought to myself. Hearing me come up, Mother had opened her eyes, realizing that we were there, but probably not recognizing us. I smirked, creeping over to my danger-ridden parent who crouched up against the headboard.

"St..Stay away. I'll kill ya."

"You know, you should stay away from all that... beer, and those cigarettes..." I kicked a beer bottle out of the way as I approached my trembling mother. "Dearest, dearest Mother... I have just the thing that'll fix you up. A remedy, per say, to abolish that hang-over you'll have tomorrow morning." I leaned close to her, forcing the bottle of Smilex onto her lips.

"That is," I began, "if you even _see_ tomorrow morning!" I poured the contents down her throat. She struggled, but slowly stopped, falling limp. I laughed coldly. I lived up to my promise. I'd shove things down her throat. Things that wouldn't kill her, but wouldn't feel that great going down. Oops! It DID kill her. My mistake.

"Let's get out of here, Mistah J," Harley whispered behind me. It looked as if this made her nervous. Well, of course it would- I just killed two people.

"Well, I really thought it would be a bit more... exciting, you know? I guess I'll leave that up for the reporters... Alright, let's go home." I placed my hand on the small of her back, leading her back down the stairs.

"And yet another act of crime. Can the masked vigilante who calls himself the Batman defend all of Gotham, or will someone stand in his path?" I heard the TV muffle as we walked down the steps. I stopped, staring at the talk show host, Josie Jones, as she chatted away on the screen.

"It's never going to stop, is it."

"What's that, Puddin;?" Harley said, turning to me as she wrapped on arm around my back, rubbing my shoulder blades.

"People. People are going to keep being cruel... keep being _evil_, just like my parents. None of them deserve to live, Cupcake, don't you agree?" She slowly nodded. I looked down, then back up at her.

"Bad people don't deserve life, Harley, not like you and I. People like my parents, and all the other corrupt ones out there should be put away... no. Not put away. They should be killed." I placed my hand on her chin. "You said you would do anything for me, right?"

"Y-Yes, b-but... We can't kill _everyone, _Puddin'. C...Can we?"

"No, _heaven's_ no... We won't be killing everyone, Cupcake. We'll be... delivering justice." I smiled to myself. From here on, it was set. From here on, Harley and I would be giving Gotham City all the justice it needed, and I had a strange feeling that the "Batman" might have a part in our little play...

--

_Thanks for reading yet another chapter of Primrose Path! Hope you liked it, and please review! Also, tell me what you think should happen next!_

_Random bit to chew on- me and Eno talked about this before. Isn't it a bit ironic that Jake Gyllenhaal's sister plays Rachel? Just a random thought running through my mind._

_Note to self, never read "Brokeback Mountain" the book. Never done so, but Eno says its eh... disturbing. I'm not going to ask why._

_ANYWAY._

_Please review! I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE... my chocolate bread. Okay how many of you recognized that? It's from Peach Girl! Our beloved Kiley Okayasu. -drool- Anywho. I need your ideas, folks. I really do. All I know is that Jack and Bruce have to meet up eventually, but should he be Batman or should he be Bruce? Man, so many things to think about. Also, the meeting was Harvey was a bit brief. Maybe I should add more? Gah, not sure if I'm up to that. Oh, and Poison Ivy should be returning... Maybe Scarecrow can return? I just thought- maybe I can incorporate our lovely Selina Kyle into this. Meow. OH! Or even Dick Grayson! No. Robin's too... odd._

_OKAY ENOUGH RANTING! Just review and tell me what you think! 3_

_**PS**: Eno, like I said before, I'll try to add some easter eggs in here... Hopefully. I'm glad you put so many in your story. 3 I catch them all! GOTTA CATCH 'EM ALL, POKEMON! Okay, I'm done._

_**PSS**: REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!!_


	12. Lies

**A/N:** _Alright, folks! A BUNCH OF REVIEWS SO FAST! After that dry spell, I was almost going to die. BUT YOU GUYS SAVED ME! -hugsqueezekisshumpsmex- o.o A-Alright. Just wanted to make this a bit personal so I'm going to have a few notes for each of you, individually._

_Kureno Sohma: Uh, not much. I LOVE YOU. That is all. XD_

_MuffanMartians: 1) Yes, I guess it is. Thanks for mentioning that. 2) THAT IS AN AWESOME IDEA! Thank you so much! I will **so** totally use that. And give you creds, of course. 3) Of course he will be. 3 It **is** JxB after all. I know I haven't put much in, but there will be some coming up. 4) Yup, that's what I was planning on. -- I will try to update as soon as I can! I haven't gotten much homework, but it is only day three... x.x Yikes. Also, I'm glad to hear I keep you going through the day! Ahaha, your guys' reviews do the same for me! Thanks!_

_MissWickedWitch: Thanks! Its one of my favorite couples (no matter how... confusing. Er. Wrong word. Distorted, perhaps.)_

_Periwinklexprecision: Thanks! I know I need to describe the characters more... I get a bit sloppy as I go on and just want the plot to continue! I also hate fillers, but sometimes you need them, huh? Maybe I should put one or two in, just to give us a break... Anyway, I was kidding about bringing Catwoman and Robin in. That would be too many people. Lol. Also, you, as well as a few others, have said that I play a really good Harley. Do I? I thought it was a little corny, but thanks! Maybe since more than one person has said it, I should go further into it. Write her own story perhaps? I'll also try to add a bit of Rachel and John's date. I have just the thing in mind... 3 – Again, thanks for the compliments!_

_The Crimson Wing: OHMAHGAWDLYKTELLMETELLMETELLMEEEEE! What happened? Why were you in the hospital? NOW IM WORRIED LYK ZOMG! -huggles you so tight you nearly suffocate, then realizes what I did and lets go- uh.. Sorry. -sweatdrop- B-but are you okay? I hope everything's fine! And don't ever worry about complaining. XD I take it as constructive criticism. -- Thanks for the compliments! I thought my plot was still choppy- I'm a very lazy person lol. I can actually write much, much better, (much more **detailed**, maybe) but I get too tired and bored of it and just give up! Ugh. Anyway, I hope you heal, whatever the problem may be. You'll be in my prayers! -that Tarzan song comes on with the words "prayers" said dully where "heart" should be- ...TURN THAT OFF! Okay I'm done ranting._

_All The Others: People like Missah J, d00mfuzzball, etc, etc- THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! I read each and every one of them! I appreciate them all, but can't take the time to write you all otherwise this author's note will get too long. (It's almost a whole page already, wow!) Anyway, thanks again! You guys keep me going through the day!_

_ALRIGHT! Now, sorry about that ridiculously long author's note... It was really long, wasn't it? But no matter how long it is, I can't express my feelings I have for you guys! (That sounded gay o.e) But really. I'm sooooo happy to read your reviews every night when I get home from school. Seriously, I think about all the reviews I'll get when I'm SUPPOSED to be doing my Algebra. But anywho, thanks again! Alright, alright, I'm done rambling!_

_--_

_Ring. Ring. Ring._ I rolled over. Thinking it was the alarm clock, I reached up to hit it. First of all, I managed to hit Harley on the shoulder instead of the clock. Then, realizing that it was just the phone, I took the chance to mumble for Harley to get it as I turned over to sleep some more. Hearing her grumble and the phone click, I gave a satisfied smile and snuggled down in the covers.

My smile slowly faded as I listened in on the conversation.

"C-Can I call you back?" Harley was saying. I lowered my brow and sat up to look at her. She gave a nod, saying "thank you" before hanging up. She turned to me.

"That was your friend Bruce..." My eyes widened. Bruce? How did he even get this number? Why was he calling in the first place? By the look on my face, Harley must have guessed what I was wondering, for she answered my exact questions.

"He was... worried about you. That you hadn't come to school. So he went to your house to check up on you and uh... Found your parents." I looked away. Damn... That was the _least_ of the people I'd thought to find them. I was hoping they'd rot away, alone.

"He was hoping to walk to school with you..." She looked down, then back up. "He wanted to know if you were alright. He seemed really concerned. Wondered if the man who'd killed your parents had done you in, too. What should I tell him?"

"I...I'll call him," I stuttered, still a bit shocked. I had to climb over Harley to get the phone, and she quickly scooted over to accommodate my needs. Seven pushes and I'd reached Bruce's line. (Yes, we'd exchanged phone numbers).

"Bruce?"

"God, Jack, what the hell's going on? Are you alright?" I heard him say on the other end of the line. I gave a sigh.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine."

"That's horrible what happened to your parents. Were you there when it happened? Where are you now? Tell me."

"I-I was there, yes," I said, making it up as I went. "The guy tried to do me in, but I guess I was immune to it or something. But it uh... sort of... disfigured me." I gave a look to my ghastly pale hand, then returned to the conversation. "I'm staying at Ha-- er, Miss Quinzel's house. She offered me a place to stay when she heard the news. I... I was too afraid to call the cops. And exhausted. I just collapsed on her couch and slept the night off."

"God, that's horrible. I guess you don't have to call them now. I reported it the minute I saw them."

"Yeah," was all I could say. I looked away. I knew I wouldn't get caught, but... You know. I was just...concerned.

"Man...well... if you're alright, then..."

"Catch ya around, Bruce."

"Yeah, same to you." _Click_. I kept my hand held on the phone, closing my eyes, my head lowered. Damn. I really didn't know what to think.

I felt a hand be placed on my shoulder. Harley didn't even have to say anything- I could sense that we both were thinking the exact same words. Oh shit.

"What do we do, Jack?" she whispered into my ear, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Well, now that the cops are on our trail, probably wanting to ask me some questions, I guess we really can't do anything," I replied lamely, looking away. For once, I was at a loss of ideas. Usually, I could think up things really quick. But this... I'd never gotten this far into anything.

"I can sense that _he'll_ be on our trail, too," I said after a while, looking out the window. Harley was silent for a moment, probably giving a questionable look.

"Who's _he_?" I turned to look at her. Smirking, I rubbed my hand along her chin.

"Dear, dear Harley... who else but ...the Batman?"

"What are we going to do about it?" she asked. I rubbed her hair behind her ear.

"Nothing, Cupcake. Actually, I'm looking quite forward to meeting him."

--

"Welcome back to GCN, Gotham City's favorite news network. This is Nancy Douglas. Now to our top headlines. Two bodies were found today in their homes in rural Gotham. Lucy and Thomas Napier were found in relaxed positions, seemingly doing the activities they were positioned in at ease. Toxin tests show that they were in fact poisoned, but by what remains unknown. Police are yet to find any suspects."

"Well, that's good news, ain't it, Mistah J?" Harley and I sat in the living room, watching the evening news. Earlier that day, the police had shown up to interrogate me. They didn't ask much- just what happened. I had made up how I'd been knocked out, and poisoned, but I strangely didn't die. They suggested that it was faulty, or that I was immune to it. My job was done.

I thought they might suspect me, since I was the son, but they ruled that out because I was a "victim". Of course, my skin and hair was the proof. They tested my blood and found out that I had indeed been "poisoned", but there was something left out, and that, of course, was the deadly Smilex.

I'd let them figure it out themselves... Until then, I'd be on my lonesome. Well, I guess, with Harley.

"Well, I'm going for a bath," I heard Harley say. My brain didn't fully process it until she'd stood up, snapping me out of my thinking trance.

"Alright," I said, returning my gaze to the television, where Nancy Douglas started talking about the day's next topic.

I saw Harley in the reflection of the TV, walking towards the bathroom doorway. She gave me a strange look before walking in and shutting the door slowly. I sighed and crossed my ankles on the footstool. And now we wait...

--

_Sorry for the wait! Things have been hectic with three things- no muse, school, and my meanie-butt parents! I'm not going to make this too long, but I really hope you had fun reading this! Please review!_


	13. A Partnership

"Mistah J?" I opened my eyes to see a robe-clad Harley peering down at me. Looks like I'd fallen asleep on the couch, but not very long, because the GCN news was still on. I yawned and sat upright against the arm of the couch, Harley soon taking her place on the corner of it.

"Hey, Mistah J, I was just thinkin' in the tub about takin' this new route... The life of crime, you know?"

"I wouldn't call it that," I said quietly, but I didn't think she caught it, for she kept on talking.

"If we're gonna do that, we're gonna need henchmen... Ya know? To help with the heists. Come on, Mistah J. Every baddy out there's got henchmen. There's -"

"We're not your average criminals, Cupcake. We don't need other distrustful men who will end up betraying us and giving away our secrets," I said in one breath, looking up at Harley. She gave a cute puppy-dog frown. It was adorable, I must say.

"But, Puddin', we can't do this all on our own... If we're gonna...er... what did you say... 'deliver justice' to all of Gotham's pretty little people," she said, leaning closer to me to emphasize her sincerity. Her lip was even quivering. Damn, she's good.

I gave a long, exaggerated sigh, then nodded a few times. "Fine... But if we're going to do this, we need to act quickly."

"Where are we gonna go, Mistah J?" Harley asked, tilting her head. "There ain't many henchmen ads in the _Penny Saver_."

"Where any other villain would go," I said, sitting up. I placed my hand on her thigh and looked directly into her eyes. "The Warehouse."

--

The Warehouse was a meeting place for all sorts of criminals- convicts in hiding, thieves, bandits, and the more dangerous, murderers and the like. It wasn't known to your average citizen, but I'd heard word on the street- when your parents kick you out, you hear things. It was sort of a taboo; if kids would ask their teachers what it was, they'd scoff it off and say, "I don't know what you mean," but of course, people knew. They just didn't know _where_. That's the only reason the cops didn't clean the place out. Sometimes the location would move, if it got too well-known. But for the most part, it remained a secret.

I knew exactly where it was, though. I'd even been there before- strangely, criminals could be pretty hospitable. When I was younger, fourteen, perhaps, I'd wandered into the Warehouse, and they let me sleep in there. The treated me like I was one of them, if that's something to be proud of. It made me feel good, for the few moments that I actually _could_ without someone telling me off.

It was a hard life, but that was behind me. Now I'd be returning to the Warehouse for a different purpose. To get henchmen.

"Hello, boys!" Harley had said the moment she swung open the doors of the Warehouse. She didn't have to worry about being quiet- it was well hidden under Gotham's busy streets. She shimmied forward, swinging her hips with every move, her arms spread to the heavens. She was really charismatic. I probably wouldn't have made such an entrance, although, it did seem rather... entertaining.

At the looks giving from all of the brutes, Harley made a face, but continued. "Mistah J and I are lookin' for a little... help for our business."

"Whacha got planned?" A man with a rather large build and a small head asked. His voice was deep and rich with maturity- it strangely fit his figure. Absentmindedly I thought that it would be funny if he had a more feminine voice. But that's just me.

"Well, me and Mistah J... We was thinkin' o' giving this city a little more justice than its getting from the Bat," Harley said, propping herself up on a rather large crate.

"Mr. J?" A thin, African-American man asked, stepping forward near the big brute with the small head.

"Me," I said, stepping forward. "Name's the Joker."

"He's the man behind the plan," Harley chimed in, rocking back and fourth. The big guy lowered his brow.

"What's in it for us?"

"What, the sheer joy of killing isn't enough?" I asked, taking a step.

"I'm in," the thin man said, fixing his beanie. He walked over towards Harley and stood. The big brute gave a sigh and stepped forward as well.

"Yeah, me too." Harley giggled and touched the thin man's nose.

"What do they call you two?"

"I'm Lewis," the hat-wearing man replied with a gentle smile.

"And I'm Buster," the brute replied, cracking his knuckles. Harley giggled and jumped off the crate swiftly.

"And I'm Harley Quinn! Welcome to the team!" I smiled and left them to chat. I needed some fresh air. It was strange, having to trust these two men with our secrets. We'd never give them our real identities. It was easy to hide them, me with my change of skin and hair, and the addition of a ridiculously-colored outfit – a purple suit with an orange shirt and green vest – that Harley had chosen, as well as her jester suit for herself. But still... It felt so... strange.

"The Joker, is it?" I turned around with surprise. There stood a figure in black armor, a mask on his head and a cape on his back. Someone who I'd been just itching to meet.

"The Batman... I've heard of you." He remained emotionless, not saying a word. I raised a brow. "You seem a little stiff."

"You killed that boy's parents." This surprised me. How did he know? Oh. The skin. That's right. But... I don't see... Wouldn't that make me the victim? Maybe he thought something went wrong. Oh well.

"I wouldn't use those words. More like... Helped the boy out. Tragic story, he had, really..."

"How do you know him?"

"I stalked him, what do you think?" This reply was complete sarcasm. Batman just lowered his brow, staring back at me through those dark eyes. I couldn't help but think I knew this guy... In the eyes it was hard to tell, but his mouth... The shape of the mouth looked so familiar.

"Come on, Bats, give me a break. I'm new to this business. Why don't you wait until I get more... acquainted with the city's people." The man in black seemed to glare at me, but strangely his expression didn't change much.

"I'd like to stop that from happening." Before I knew it, he grabbed me by the collar and raised me up so that I was eye-level with him. I _was_ a bit shorter than he was. I only laughed, a bit restrained because of the grip near my neck.

"Heh... What will you do to me?" I asked smartly, smirking as I looked at him. He hesitated, then dropped me.

"Nothing," he replied shortly.

"You're funny, you know that, Bats?" I bent over and gave a comical laugh, closing my eyes and slapping my knees for the effect. "You just can't hurt me, can you? Even though I did that boy's parents in, you just can't..." I looked up. He was gone.

"Come on, Mistah J!" I heard as the door to the Warehouse opened. Harley giggled as she did cartwheels down the steps.

"Alright, let's go," I said, putting my hand on the small of Harley's back as she stood next to me. We headed for home.

--

_Thanks for reading! Im SOOOOOO sorry for the delay! OMG it took forever, forgive me! I haven't had the greatest of muse, and sadly Eno has gotten far ahead of me. D: Read her story, it rocks, but REVIEW ON MINE! ...please? Love you guys! Akii_


	14. A Secret Revealed

_PerwinklexPrecision- I just wanted to note that Batman – does – notice him, he just doesn't want to make it obvious. But it's a little hard to say that when it's Jack's point of view. The thing is, when Batman lifted him up, he got to see his face a little better, and **thats** why he didn't hurt him. Maybe I should have put that in the end of the last chapter. I'm sorry!_

--

The click of the light switch was the only noise in the house that night as Harley and I walked in, closing the door behind us. Harley yawned and stretched, her arms raised above her head.

"Ugh... I'm tired, Mistah J. I'm gonna hit the hay."

"Not just yet," I said, pulling out a seat for myself at the table. "We need to discuss our plan. And not just our next killing, but our plan for the whole future. Where is this going to go? How far? We need to talk about this, Harley." The jester sat down on the table, yawning again.

"Well," she said through her yawn. "Where do you wanna start?"

"How... How will I, I mean _we_, get famous? We need to get known, Cupcake. We ain't gonna do this for free, now, are we?" If we were going to deliver justice to this city known as Gotham, we needed to get all the credit.

"No siree," she replied, laying on her back and shutting her eyes. "Maybe you need some sort of trademark... Iunno."

"A trademark... That's genius, Harley!" I said, standing up. This might just work. "What kind of thing were you thinking of?"

"Iunno..." she repeated. "Why don't you just give them your card and have 'em call ya?" I froze in my spot. A card. The Joker. This was all too perfect!

"You're genius seizes to fail me!" I said a bit too enthusiastically, picking her up and setting her on her feet, twirling her around a few times. I stopped when she had spun back to me.

"A card, Cupcake. My trademark will be a card... A joker card out of a simple playing card deck... It's perfect. I ever tell you how much I love you?" A mischievous look had replaced the tired one plastered on Harley's face.

"No, Puddin'. Why don't you tell me?" I smirked and twirled her around again, draping her down so that she was almost touching the ground. I was about to pull her up again when...

_Ring_. _Whump_. Barely realizing I had dropped Harley, I reached for the phone, picking it up. I heard her scoff and stand up in the background as a voice came over the speaker.

"Harls?" I blinked. The voice was that of a woman. It was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place who it was.

"No, this is Jack," I replied quietly.

"Ah... What are you doing there at such a late hour?" It then occurred to me who it was. Miss Isley!

"I've been staying here ever since you left... For the same reasons as Harley told you." As I've said in the past, Harley told her that I'd been staying because she didn't think my parents were fit as of the moment, which technically they weren't. They were dead.

"Ah," was all Miss Isley said.

"Wait, left?" Harley asked. "Is that Red?! Let me talk to her, let me talk to her!" She ran up and nearly barreled over-top of me, grabbing the phone before I could even speak. I decided to let the two talk. Sighing, I headed up the stairs into "our" (technically it was Harley's) room.

I needed to think. I needed to think hard about what was to come of us... What was to become of _this_. This whole charade.

--

The hustle and bustle of the streets was as noisy as ever the next afternoon. Harley and I were going out for a day on the town, as Miss Isley would be home the next day, and we needed to stock up on food for a welcoming back party that just the three of us would have. I'm sure Miss Isley was less than thrilled about having me there, but she'd have to deal with it.

"Jack, is that you?" Hearing my name, I swiftly turned around, and who did I see? None other than Harvey "Two-Face" Dent.

I hadn't really gotten to know him all that well, so it didn't really make me happy to see him, but I wasn't rude, either.

"Woah... They said on the news that something happened, but... I didn't know it was..."

"This bad? It's alright, things happen," I answered, turning back around. Harley had walked away, probably hoping that Harvey didn't notice it was her. It was still illegal, and she didn't want people to find out. Especially people we knew.

"I'm sorry," he said. I guess the two of us sort of shared a bond, now... Both being disfigured. Maybe this could get somewhere.

"It's fine," I replied shortly, continuing to walk. He followed alongside of me, looking over towards me.

"Y'know, Rachel came up to me the other day..." Harvey began, placing his hands in his pockets. I looked over towards him slightly, then back ahead of me. Rachel? I hadn't heard from her ever since she and Johnathan had went on that date together.

"She was saying some pretty weird stuff," he said, looking away. "It seems that Crane tried some kind of... potion on her..."

"What do you mean?" I asked. Oh great. Crane had probably ruined all the chances of _ever_ having her like him by doing this, whatever it was. Maybe she angered him for some reason. But I knew that he was capable of a _lot_ of things, with all the chemistry _he_ knew.

"I don't know... She won't talk to Bruce about it, but when she ran up to me she was crying. She said everything around her scared her... It sounded pretty horrifying." He looked at his shoes. "She also said something about you."

"What did she say about me...?" I asked slowly. This couldn't have been good. I'd have to have a word to Crane about this.

"She said that... if it wasn't for you, it would've never happened..." I stopped in my tracks. For a moment, the hustle and bustle of the crowd around us is white noise. I was at a loss for words. But to my relief, Harvey continued.

"But I personally think it was just babbling from the side-effects of whatever made her so goddamn scared of everything."

"You're probably right," I said casually, relieved that the awkward tension had been broken. It was strange... I wondered why Johnathan had messed with Rachel. Maybe she denied him something? I didn't want to think about it. Personally, I didn't _care_ about them anymore. I just didn't want to me ratted out.

"I wonder why she wouldn't tell Bruce," Harvey said quietly, looking away. He slowly turned back to me. "Hey, that reminds me, have you spoken..uh... recently?" I looked at him.

"N-No, I haven't," I replied quietly. It was strange. Just weeks earlier, he'd been laughing at me at that lunch table as an apple came plummeting towards the back of my head. And now, we were walking by each other like we were best friends. To me, he seemed like the kind of guy to have a split persona, a double life. There _must_ have been a secret to this guy. I could _sense_ it.

"Oh," he said quietly, looking away. "He's acting different. Especially yesterday. I called him to chat a little, and he was really quiet. Like he was thinking, or something."

"I see," was all I said. Why was Bruce acting like that? Maybe it was after he heard about me. Or maybe something else. Whatever it was...

"Jack! What a strange place to see you at!" I turned. Harley stood there, covering me. She grabbed me by the shoulder, giving Harvey a little nod before taking me deeper into the crowd.

"Thanks," I whispered to her.

"No problem." She smiled. "We have to get goin' anyway." I sighed. As we walked down that crowded street, I could only think of one thing. _If it wasn't for you, this would've never happened_. I shut my eyes for a moment. The end was coming near. My secret was going to get out. And it's only a matter of time...

--

_Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay- again, no muse, and school! Man, it gets hectic! I bet all of you readers are having a tough time too! Anyway, thanks for reading again. Sorry that its short, but the next one might be a little longer, and perhaps it'll come sooner! I'll try! Thanks, and please review!_


	15. A Plot To Die For

_Hey, I have to apologize a million times for my actions. I know, I KNOW I haven't posted in forever, and I'm sooo sorry to have kept you guys waiting! But I've been having some family issues lately... I was kicked out of my house. So, please, I'm sorry that I haven't posted in forever, but now I'm doing it, does that count for anything? D: Please pray for me, I kind of need it right now. -hug- Thanks you guys, you're great readers and I'm so happy you were patient with me! _

_--_

"I have to do it." It was quiet. The only noise had been the ticking of the clock until now when I'd spoken. Harley had jumped a little at the sound of my voice all of a sudden, but soon relaxed as she turned to me.

"What do you mean, Puddin'?" I looked at my hands, the joker card sliding through my fingertips.

"I have to make my first move, Harley. Our little plan is being discovered."

"What do you mean?" Harley asked, leaning towards me and placing a hand on my shoulder. I turned away.

"Rachel went crazy, Harls. John tried some stuff on her and..."

"You mean, Johnathan Crane?" It just struck me then that Harley didn't really know these people. She just worked at the school, she wasn't really with the crowd.

"Yes, Crane. The thing is, if this thing gets out..."

"They'll send us to jail."

"Or the _asylum_, Harley," I told her, scooting forward in my seat. "So no matter what, they're going to catch us. We need to plan our first big gig. If we don't do this now, we won't get the chance later. We _have_ to be known for this, Harley. It's our... it's _my_ calling."

"Oh, Puddin'... You're right," Harley said with a nod. "We need ta make a great first impression on our lovely justice system of Gotham! We need ta start this with a bang! A boom! A... A..." She placed her finger to her chin in thought a bit childishly. She suddenly perked up. "A_ kablam_!"

"Exactly, Cupcake," I said, patting her on the head. "I'm glad there's someone here who understands just how I feel." Harley bounded over and landed in my lap, looking up at me sweetly.

"Puddin'... What about Red? She's gonna find out about this..." I looked down. Damn it. I hadn't even thought of that. Pamela... We'd have to do something about _that_ one.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of everything!" I said, reassuringly patting her on the back. "Now, now, get to bed, Sweetie, tomorrow's gonna be a big day!"

--

"Alright, see you tonight!" It was the next morning. Harley, being still employed at the school, had to go to work. Usually I hated just sitting around waiting for her, but today it came in great use. While she was gone, I was going to concoct a potion made from Pamela's own plants to poison her. I _really_ liked chemistry, you know. She had plenty of poisonous plants, but guessing she made her own vaccines, I wanted to mix something up together she'd never be able to prevent from killing, or at least hurting, her.

And the greatest thing was, Harley would never even know.

Sure, a side of me felt bad about hurting my "girlfriend"'s best friend, but... the other side of me was going to be a cold-blooded killer and couldn't _possibly_ have feelings like that. I couldn't _care_ about anyone but myself. From now on, I was my own man. Even Harley... I had to care about myself more than her. She was a toy, and nothing else. A helper. A go-to person when you need supplies. Nothing more than an assistant, if one can even call her that.

"Hurry back, Cupcake," I told her, giving her a peck to the lips before she headed out to her car. I watched her back out of the driveway, and when her car had fully turned the corner, I retreated into the recesses of Pamela's laboratory.

Putting on a thick pair of lab gloves, I went straight to work. I took all sorts of plants, ones I knew were poisonous, and secreted their liquids, or chopped up the spores, or whatever else it took to get the poisons, and put them in a beaker. I mixed up my concoction, adding things, taking out things, doing whatever I could, until I got a dark green liquid. I smiled. It was finished. I dare not touch it – a concoction like this could seep into your pores and into your bloodstream.

Now all I had to think of was a way to poison Miss Isley. She would no longer get in the way of our plans... Now Harley and I could continue our own little system of justice. But I had to wonder how Bruce would play into this...

--

"Harley..." I slid the door to her office open. It was well after school hours, around 4:30. She had called to tell me that she had stayed to finish up some paperwork, so I took the chance to head over and pick her up.

I opened the door to see Harley sitting at her desk, a pen in her hand, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. She looked up and gave a smile and a wink, saying, "Hey, Puddin'."

"We have to make our move tonight," I told her, sitting on the couch. She set her pen in a jar filled with the like and placed her paper to the side.

"Tonight? What about Red?"

"I took care of it, Cupcake," I reassured her, smiling as I thought of Pamela coming home and picking up a note that lay on the counter, unbeknown to her, sprayed with my "potion".

"We can't have anyone interfering, Harley," I added. "Even Pamela. It will only make things worse." Harley bit her lip, hesitating. But she eventually nodded.

"Alright, Puddin'," she said slowly. "I understand."

"Good," I said, standing up and fixing my coat. "Now, get your suit on. We're going to the ferries."

--

_Again, I apologize for this being so late. And I know you are probably pissed at me for not putting much Bruce in lately. DON'T WORRY! He'll be in the next chapter. Please, all I ask of you now is to review! I will be updating sooner now! The story is almost to its end! Please keep your faith in me. Love you, guys!_


	16. The Scorpion and the Frog

The moon shone brightly that night, the stars shining with equal luminosity. The eerie emptiness of the building was emphasized by the clicking of my shoes on the tiles as I approached the window-covered wall, stepping over the body of a guard to do so. With my lovely patented Smilex, Harley and I had done the delicious deed of "taking out" all enforcement of the building. Now was _our_ time to shine, and no one would be interrupting it.

Or so I thought.

Harley giggled, barely able to contain herself as she held a voice transmitter in her hand, connected to the only two ferries on the water this late, one with normal every-day passengers, and the other with prisoners and police officers. It was almost 11:30, and precisely on the dot, Harley would be speaking with them.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she said, bouncily, watching the ferries from the window. I stood to the side, watching them as well with a smile on my face. This was my debut, and I was thoroughly enjoying it.

"I'm your captain, Harley Quinn, but don't give me all the credit – you owe that to the Joker!" she said, giving me a little wink. I nodded, beckoning her to continue.

"Tonight, citizens of Gotham, you will be part of a... human experiment. Each of your ferries are... _rigged_, with explosives... too many to count," she said, counting on her fingers comically. "But, that isn't all. Both ferries have been given a detonator. But, not the one to your _own_ ship, of course... To the other." She laughed hauntingly, then continued. "Now, I bet you can see where this is going. Who will it be, the normal, every-day men, women, and children of Gotham... or, the one's who are paying their debt to society? You have until midnight to decide. If you haven't by then," she paused to chuckle. "We kill you both." Harley threw her head back and laughed, sighing and wiping her eyes as she continued. "Thank you for coming aboard Joker Cruise Liners! Be sure to tell your friends about us! That is... if you make it out alive." She chuckled as she hung up the transmitter, bounding over to me happily.

"How'd I do, Puddin'?" she asked, jumping into my arms. I gave her a kiss to the forehead.

"Wonderfully. Now, Buster and Lewis should be waiting for you on the other building. Go help them out. They're planning a little crime of their own." I smirked and set her down. She giggled and cartwheeled out the doorway, singing, "I'm off to see Buster and Lewis, and wonderful henchmen they are!"

After she'd left, I placed my hands on my hips and watched the two ferries whom we're probably panicking, deciding what to do. It was like the races, you could bet, but you could never be sure. I personally thought that the goody-goodies would push the button, sending the prisoners up in sparks, but the other side of me thought that they'd be _too_ good of goody-goodies and wouldn't push it at all. The prisoner's, being bad people, might push the button too, or, they might find it in their hearts to let the women and children survive. Part of me wished both of them would be good so I could blow them _both_ up with the detonator in my pocket.

I picked it up and inspected it. One little push... that's all it needed, and both of those ferries would be blown half way to Hell.

"Ah, a wonderful life, and a wonderful life indeed," I said, tossing the detonator up. But before I could catch it, I heard someone say, "Not to mention a short one!" and I was practically thrown across the room.

As quickly as I had fallen, I stood up just fast enough to see none other than "the Batman" staring me down before he grabbed me by my shirt collar and lifted me up. I slid the bottom of my shoe against the other one, drawing a blade from the underside, and whammed it into his leg. He quickly let me go to cringe at the pain, and I gave him another blow to the leg before laughing my head off.

"Ah ha ha! Come to spoil the fun, I see," I told him, watching the blood seep through his black ensemble and onto the ground. He growled lowly and looked up at me, throwing a punch that landed directly on my face. I just shrugged it off, laughing all the while.

"Sometimes you just gotta laugh at yourself, you know?!" I told him, trying to suppress my giggles. It was just too much fun with this guy. He must have taken a liking to me the last time I saw him because here he was, but I surely questioned how he_ found out_ where I was.

Before I could think another word, a mass of darkness lunged at me and pummeled me to the ground. The two of us slid, breaking the glass window, and landing on a sort of deck area, my head inches from the ledge. My eyes quickly slid to the side where the detonator lay, still spinning from the impact, and then to the clock, which read around 11:50.

"So, Batsy, why did ya follow me here? Why not a more... recognized villain? Don't get me wrong, I plan to be recognized but..."

"I came to stop you," he said lowly. He was straddling me at this point, his hands clenched over my wrists, holding me down.

"Stop me before I even get started? Man, you're as good as they say," I said with a chuckle, feeling the corners of my Glasgow smile tightening painfully. Batman lifted the upper half of my body up by my shoulders and slammed me back down.

"Why are you doing this?!" He demanded, and I could feel his hands become shaky. Why was he getting so emotional over this? Its not as if he _knew_ me...

"Let me tell you... a story," I said, holding in what was left of my giggles. I closed me head and licked my lips, the wind blowing my hair a bit and tickling my skin.

"There once was a... scorpion," I said, smiling to myself. "He decided he needed a little change of home, so he searched around and around... Up the mountains, down into the valleys, left and right until he finally came to a river. On the other side was a _beautiful_ garden, so he decided, '_That's the place where I want to live_'." Batman narrowed his eyes, and I continued.

"But, of course, the scorpion could not swim, so he decided to ask a little frog if he could help him. 'Hey,' he says. "Hey, Mr. Frog. Would you mind giving me a little trip across the river? I can't swim, and I need to get to the other side.' The frog was _very_ suspicious of this scorpion, so he asked, 'Mr. Scorpion, how do I know you won't kill me when we get onto the bank?' The scorpion just laughed. 'I wouldn't kill you, because I would be so grateful for your kindness.' After a moment of thinking, the frog agreed. So, the scorpion hopped onto the frog's back, and the two swam and swam down the fast-running river, propelled by the frog's strong legs. Suddenly, the frog felt a sharp pain in his back, and turned around to see the scorpion's stinger stuck inside his skin. 'Why would you do that?!' he asked frantically. 'Now we'll both die!' The scorpion laughs and says..." I paused here to chuckle for a few moments. "He laughs and says... 'I couldn't help it, it's in my nature!'" At this, I threw my head back and laughed whole-heartedly, but Batman seemed to be less-than-thrilled.

Suddenly I heard him growl, grabbing me by the jacket and throwing me off the edge. I laughed the whole way down as I plummeted into darkness.

--

_Thanks for reading yet another chapter of Primrose Path! They will be coming very fast from now on, for the end is coming! Please, give me some ideas, folks. I'm not sure where to go with this, really, I only have an idea of how to end it. Give me feedback. Thanks! Review! Love ya!_

_PS: Welcome back, Crimson Wing! I'm glad you're back – I missed your reviews a lot!_


	17. Of Gavels and Jurors

_ I laughed the whole way down as I plummeted into darkness._

Then, something caught me by the leg and dragged me back up.

"You just can't let me go, can you?" I asked as the bat-arang fastened to my leg was tied, leaving me, literally, hanging. Batman stood there, eyebrows lowered, and for quite some time, we just stared at each other. For a minute, the pain of having all the blood rushing to my head set in, but the sound of his voice seized the pain if only for a moment.

"That woman in the jester suit... That was... Harleen Quinzel, wasn't it?" I paused. How did he know Harley? The way he paused before he said her name... Maybe he was going to call her something else, like Harley, or Miss Quinzel, perhaps? Did that mean that he knew her? I had a _few_ guesses as to _how_...

"Now, why would I tell you that, Batsy?" I asked nonchalantly, a small smirk rising upon my face. He just looked at me, his eyes piercing through the night. I grinned. And that turned into a chuckle. And then a whole-hearted laugh. I laughed on through the darkness that Batman had soon disappeared into.

But just as soon as he had left had a new arrival...well... arrived. The police. At least 7 or 8 of them. Batsy must have informed them about my little "plan".

"We've come to stop you, Joker," said the leader of the team. Good. My name's been spreading around. Finally, I'd get a little recognition.

The SWAT team, which I thought was a wee bit unnecessary, cut the line on the bat-arang and brought be back to earth, the blood soon returning downstream to the rest of my body. Good, my toes were beginning to get numb.

I laughed. I laughed on and on and on again as the police dragged me out of there in handcuffs. But, I made sure to step on a little green button on the detonator before I left, shortly followed by a giant eruption of flames exploding on the waters outside of the building.

--

"All rise..." Everyone was silent in the courtroom that fateful Sunday afternoon. I was standing in the, of course, defense box, awaiting my punishment for the felonies I had committed. I was being charged with 400-and-some counts of murder, a little ridiculous, no? But we, meaning my attorney and I, were going to try for the insanity plea. You dribble and you shoot, you know? Hope for the best.

Eventually, it was my turn to approach the box, and so I did without any questions. As I stood there, with all eyes of the court watching me, and only me, I couldn't help but enjoy the limelight.

"Mr. Joker," the prosecutor, Henrietta Grebe, began as she stepped up to me.

"Joker is fine," I interrupted, tapping my fingers on the underside of the desk. The woman gave me a look, then continued.

"Would you consider yourself a well-respected man, Mr. Joker?" I frowned. She had completely ignored what I had just told her.

"Depends on who you're saying respects me. If you mean the legal system, well, then, that would be a no."

"How would a well-respected man _justify _ his actions, Mr. Joker?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips. I looked at her for a moment.

"Well," I began, licking my lips. "I think you already know." The woman removed her glasses and tucked them away in her coat, shifting uneasily as she stood in front of me. I smirked. She was crumbling already. This would be as easy as pie.

"Answer the question," she demanded, regaining a little strength. And somehow the vision of Harley and I in her office flashed back to me.

"The law, Ms. Grebe, is a very... weak thing to abide by. Who made it? A group of simple, yet, I _will_ admit smart, men hundreds of years ago? Who wants to trust the beliefs of an age-old prophecy?"

"So, you are aware that your actions were not justifiable by a court of law?"

"I am _aware_ of it, Ms. Grebe, however, I do not _believe_ in it. Just as atheists are aware of the Bible." We looked at one another for a long time. Then -

"No further questions, your honor."

Eventually the time had come for someone else to be up on the stand. Harley. She would be testifying on my defense on the insanity plea. Apparently, Batman had not told the police of Harley's involvement. Maybe he had a weak spot for her? Maybe he really didn't _know_, or maybe he couldn't even catch her. Whatever the case, I was the only one out of myself, Harley, Buster, and Lewis, and for that matter Crane, who was caught red-handed.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel,"the prosecutor began as she walked towards Harley, who sat in the spot I had sat in just moments earlier. I watched her from back at my rightful place.

"Ms. Grebe," Harley had replied as she looked at the woman. She smiled slightly, but slowly returned to her normal expression.

"How long have you been working in the psychiatric field?"

"I went to school straight after high school, on a gymnastics scholarship, but quickly changed to psychiatry after it... peaked my interest," Harley said, taking a moment to inhale. "I found out that I had a knack for it and, well, proved myself that I could work in a real, psychiatric environment, so I chose Arkham High, a small, but meaningful, start. It was shortly after, perhaps a year or so, that I had taken an interest in the Joker, here."

"How exactly did you _meet_ the Joker?" Ms. Grebe inquired. Harley and I both froze. We hadn't gone over this... She couldn't say at school, because that would be giving away my identity. But what else could she say?

To my relief, my attorney. Alphonso Gates, had the same thoughts I did. "Objection!" he shouted, standing. "Irrelevance to the case!"

The judge gave him a meaningful look, then turned his gaze to Ms. Grebe. "Move it along, Henrietta." I gave a mental sigh of relief and loosened up a bit, but I could see Ms. Grebe tensing slightly.

"Do you think that the Joker is a sane man, Dr. Quinzel?" she asked, and I swore it was through clenched teeth.

"No, I'm afraid I do not."

"Please tell us about your findings, Doctor." Harley nodded, taking a deep breath before looking at the jury.

"The Joker cannot possibly be sane, ladies and gentlemen of the court. He has been traumatized countless times, whether it be the torture and abuse he endured as a child, or the murder of his parents, or -"

"Did you say the murder of his parents, Dr. Quinzel?" Ms. Grebe asked, seemingly less tense than before. My heart sunk. She was up to something, I could sense it.

"Y-Yes, I did," Harley said, lowering her brow out of confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, nothing, Dr. Quinzel," she said, pronouncing Harley's name with a bit of force. "Nothing, unless his parents are two people by the name of Lucy and Thomas Napier." The crowd had audibly gasped. Harley was silent, her bottom lip trembling, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Wha... That doesn't... You..."

"That would mean, Dr. Quinzel, that your 'patient', the Joker, is actually a man by the name of _Jack Napier_!" Ms. Grebe shouted, pointing her finger at Harley. The crowd was in uproar. Harley had covered her eyes with her hands, looking like a mouse cornered by a cat. Mr. Gates had stood upright, yelling, "Objection!" The judge was banging his gavel on its mound.

"Order, order in the court!" All _I_ could do was sink down in my chair and try to drown out all the noise.

--

"How do you find the defendant?" It was after the short recess that I sat in my spot, awaiting final conviction. It had taken a while for the judge to get the courtroom to calm down, but once he did, the case went on for a while longer, until he ordered a break to clear all of their heads, and for the jury to make their decision.

"We find the defendant... innocent of all charges, on the insanity plea." My eyes widened. It had worked? It had really worked?! I tried not to show the utter giddiness I had become filled with. My eyes darted to Harley, and I could see she was holding in a smile too, mouthing the words, "thank God."

--

_Wow, sorry that it took so long to make this! I had sudden muse last night, so... Yeah! I was a little mad though, because I hardly got any reviews on the last one... That's partly why it took so long to post this. Anyway, its here now, and I hope you had fun reading it! What will it mean now that the court really knows who the Joker is? What will it mean for Bruce, especially? Find out in the chapters to come!_


	18. These Walls

I found out that the insane asylum was _nothing_ like people tell you it is. In the morning when you first walk in, the thing that hits you is the absolute silence. A sort of... phenomenon you can only experience in a place like this. But by noon, just as diversely as the temperatures change in a desert, the shrieks, hollers, and hoots fill the entire place with such an uproar that your eardrums feel as if they are going to explode from all of the confusion. But by night, its died down to that strange, eerie silence once again.

And the patients themselves? They're _absolutely_ just as insane as they say. Me, well, I'm not so much, I just got lucky. But these guys, well, they've got they're share of problems.

These were _my_ kind of people.

As I walked down the main hall for the very first time, I felt like a celebrity – my adoring fans screaming for me, wanting me. Their ghastly pale hands from the lack of sunlight reached out to me, as if it were an attempt to grab me and pull me into each and every one of their cells. Most people would back up out of fright, or try to run away, but me? Well, I loved it.

"Come on, Joker, your cell's just down this way," one of the guards, a hefty man by the name of Sawyer, told me as he led me with another guard down the hall. The patients continued to act like baboons, making a riot in a wave sort of motion as I continued to walk.

But amongst the chaos, something caught my eye. A woman, huddled in the corner of her cell, staring at me with piercing dark blue eyes through the barred window on the heavily-armored door.

Rachel.

Just as I was about to say something, Sawyer shoved me into my "new home", closing the door with a "Nighty-night, Joker." He turned to his partner, whispering, "You hear what that guy did? Killed about 400 people, half of 'em innocent, the other half a bunch o' convicts. If you ask me, he's not really insane, just -"

I couldn't take it anymore. Before I knew it myself, I'd flung my arms out in the spaces between the bars and grabbed Sawyer by the face, digging my fingers into his eye sockets and pulling them out in a bloody mess. He screamed and fell down, clutching his eyes as blood poured from in between his fingers, seeping down onto his pants and the floor below. The other guard picked up his walkie-talkie and shakily yelled "Code red, code red! Guard down! Get some back up!"

I smirked, looking the frightened guard in the eye before squeezing the eyeballs, feeling the insides squirt out in my palms. The guard nearly tripped over himself backing up, but I couldn't help but laugh. It was just so funny. _Life_ was just so funny.

--

Being insane had its perks. For one, you had many opportunities, more than one would get in a place like jail, such as watching television, reading a "wide assortment" of books (AKA either Playboy, the Bible, or the Gotham Times), eating in a cafeteria, and so on and so forth. But, if one showed violence, such as, hmm, I don't know... ripping someone's eyes out, then they'd take away some of those privileges. I still could read the books, but everything else was either separated from the others or completely taken away; I ate my meals in my cell, showered at night (everyone else did in the morning), I couldn't watch TV, etcetera, etcetera. One thing I _did_ get to do was have a psychiatrist. Whoopee. And that's where I was headed to.

Two new guards, one named Tom and the other just known as Finn, came to my cell early in the morning. The other guard before, Huck, as I later learned, had quit after seeing what I did to that other guard, Sawyer.

"Alright, Joker, rise n' shine; it's time to talk to the shrink," the husky guard Tom said as he opened my door with a key card. Finn just stood there, straight jacket in hand. Oh, did I mention that to and from places I now had to wear a straight jacket?

Tom's phrase really didn't have any effect on me, seeing as I was already awake and read to go.

"Oh, what a gentleman! Taking the time to fetch my jacket and everything... God bless your soul," I said as Finn began to buckle the jacket up. He remained emotionless as always – I loved to tease him.

"Yeah, yeah, you're the one who's gonna need the blessings, Joker," Tom said, double-checking to make sure his gun was at his side – who knows? I might be _dangerous_. "After what you did to Sawyer n' all..." he mumbled, and I could see his hand clench.

"That's because Sawyer started to say things about me..." I told Tom, looking up at him, a slow smirk rising on my face. "Now, now... _You_ won't say bad things about me, now... Will you?" I could see him swallow hard as he looked at me, but before he could speak, Finn urged me forward, and before I knew it – we were outside a door labeled "Psychiatrist".

I couldn't help but wonder who it was going to be, but I would have never guessed it to be who it actually was.

Harley.

"Now, we were promised absolute privacy," she said, fixing her blouse as she sat in a chair near a couch with her ankles crossed. The guards nodded, placing me in the couch and chaining me to it before leaving, shutting the door behind them.

I looked her up and down. She seemed so professional – a white blouse with a black skirt, her blond hair tied up in a tight bun, round glasses on her face, and she'd completely lost that Brooklyn accent – it reminded me of the old Harley, my school psychiatrist. Before we had a relationship, that is.

"That straight jacket looks uncomfortable..." was the first thing she said to me, moving her glasses in a professional manner.

"Actually, its quite the contrary," I told her. "Very...form-fitting." Harley smiled at me, pausing before saying, "I'll have it changed just as soon as I can."

There was a moment of silence between us – her blue eyes locked in battle with my brown ones. To break the silence, I smiled and said, "Start talkin', 'Miss Quinzel'." She looked down, then back up, leaning forward a bit.

"I told them that you needed to speak with someone you're comfortable with... Someone who was your psychiatrist throughout your "younger years"." She grinned. "I pulled a few strings and... _viola_. I'm here."

"By pulled a few strings, you mean..." Harley placed her finger to her lips in a shushing motion, giggling a little. "It's a secret." I cracked my neck, struggling under the restraints a little.

"Well... Do you think I'll be checking out of here any time soon?" Harley poked my nose playfully.

"I'll do my best. But don't worry, when the time comes, I'll take care of it." We looked at each other for a moment, but suddenly, Harley giggled and kissed my cheek. "Now, let's get down to business...

--

_Again, a short review to go along with a short chapter. Sorry for the wait! Review, YADDA YADDA SHUT UP AKITO D: you're brainwashing the entire world with your stupidity! Damn you, alter ego! oO Okay just review and I'll make more chapters. oo_


	19. Unexpected Escape

The next few weeks went by rapidly. Christmas had come and go – Harley had given me a present even; A self-help book written by one of her mentors. Tucked in the inside cover, however, were some pictures I couldn't quite share with the general public. Harley told me that because she only saw me once every week, she could at least be in my thoughts.

Whatever.

Speaking of our visits, they had gotten a little better, in the manner of comfort, that is. The straight jacket was no longer used – only handcuffs – because I had shown such good behavior. I hadn't killed anyone, nor hurt, or gotten into fights, so I got some of my privileges back. I could now join in on the recreational activities, although with strict guard. I still showered alone and ate alone, but I couldn't complain. Sometimes you actually _wanted_ to be alone, you know?

The next time I had a psychiatric appointment was on the second week of January. I hadn't seen Harley since the week before Christmas, because one, I was showing improvement mentally, and two, she got to have Christmas break. She swore up and down that she didn't want to and would rather spend it with me, but I urged her to take a vacation. Hell, she sure needed it, and it would probably be a while until we got the chance to leave the asylum.

Our visit had started off like many other, only this time, the second the guards left, she took the opportunity to shower me with hugs and kisses.

"Oh, it seems like its been forever!" She said through the embrace, her voice muffled by my shoulder. I could feel hot tears seep into my shirt and glide down my skin.

"Yes it has, Harls," I told her, nuzzling her gently as best I could. I _was_ restrained, after all. She lifted her head to look me in the eye, her arms still wrapped around me.

"I don't want to be away from you like that ever again," she whispered, the last of her tears falling. She was nearly choking up – how could she miss me that much? I missed her too, of course, its just...

"We need to get you out of here," she said quietly, pulling away to look me in the eye. "Tonight."

--

Later that night, around 9 o' clock, I was in the shower rooms, alone, of course, seeing as I could still murder someone at any time. The guards were waiting outside, like they did every night, probably sighing to themselves and saying that they didn't get paid enough. I ignored them though, and took a bit of time to enjoy myself – really, an asylum is a surprisingly dirty place, and it felt good to get clean.

I took this time to look at how thin and frail I had become. You could count the ribs on my stomach – not too much of a good thing seeing as I was rather tall, and I'm sure you could equally count the vertebrae on my back. And as well as that, I was extremely pale. Oh, yes. That's right. I was _always _pale.

My hair was just as green as usual – which it must have completely changed my DNA because the hair kept growing the same color. I felt the bristles along my chin and neck. They were just as green as my hair was, and I was clean-shaved when the accident had happened.

I scrubbed furiously at my skin to get the utmost clean I could – I didn't know all the bacteria and disease that crept through the bunks each night, nor did I _want_ to know.

Just as I was finished thoroughly shampooing my hair, I thought about what Harley had said earlier that day. She was going to free me that night. I supposed she'd come that night, maybe around midnight or the early hours of morning, so I'd stay awake to be ready for her arrival. I still wondered how she was going to pull it off. It was while I was thinking these very thoughts that I heard the shower room door open with a creak. Ironically, as I turned around, a very familiar face greeted me.

"You know, the women's shower room is the next room over," I said with a smirk as Harley stepped toward me, a mound of purple in one arm and a towel in the other.

I turned off the water faucet and took the towel from her and realized that the purple mound were really my slacks, jacket, shirt, vest, and other dressings.

"Here, I grabbed these," Harley told me, handing me my clothes after I had dried myself off. I grinned and looked at her.

"What do you have up your sleeve, Harley?" She just smiled, giggling and kissing my nose.

"Jus' a lil... _magic_, Puddin'." She squealed, her Brooklyn accent soon returning. I grinned as I began to fasten my slacks.

"Now, Cupcake," I said, slipping my shirt around my arms. "Were you a good little girl and brought Buster and Lewis with you?"

"They're outside," she said, reaching over to help me button up the gaudy yellow shirt. She then took out my atrocious-looking tie, which I absolutely adored, and began to tie it. I gave a small smirk as I watched her help me. Harley. Always full of surprises. Sometimes I'd wanna wring her neck, but other times I'd want to pick her up and spin her around. This was one of those times.

After I'd done dressing, we headed out the door, Buster and Lewis standing on each side like guards, dressed in security uniforms. As I was about to question where the guards were, Harley must have known what I was thinking, and pointed to the corner, where the two guards lay, forever smiling with my trusty patented Smilex. I couldn't help but laugh, and reached into my pocket, feeling around. I pulled out a card, a _Joker _card (it was miraculous that they were still in there), and placed it on one of the guards' chests. My signature. I wanted to be credited.

Harley held up her hand, with a small joy buzzer attached, only this one had a needle jutting out. "I modified this thing with Smilex," she told me, putting her hand back to her side. "Just let the guards get a lil' close then – BAM!" She paused to smack her hands together, giggling. "They nevah knew what hit 'em!"

"Harley!" I said, grabbing her hand and holding it up. The needle was now covered with her own blood. Oh no. I didn't want her to poison herself! "You idiot, Harley! You... you..."

"Hey, calm down Mistah J, I took care o' it." She laughed as she looked up at me. "I _also_ made an antidote using the actual Smilex itself. I had a lot of time on my hands Christmas break. And, o' course, I had a little help from Mistah Crane."

"Johnathan?" I asked, leading her down the hallway with Buster and Lewis not too far behind. As we went, all of the inmates and guards lie dead in the cells and the hall, everlasting smiles plastered on their faces. I guessed Harley was either very quick or used something airborne.

"Yeah, ya little friend at school. He said he'd help me on one condition..." She turned to me. "If I gave him the antidote to use on himself first before destroying all of the documentation." I frowned at this. John was smart. Too smart. If I wanted to kill him off, I'd have to use a different method. Anyway, Harley was immune to the poison, so we had no worries. Sort of.

"Well, I'll deal with him later. Let's skedaddle, Harls, we got a long night ahead of us." I reached out and grabbed her bloodied hand, taking it in my own, leading her down the silent halls that eerie night.

--

**Here comes the apology...**

**IM SO SORRY OMG OMG OMG IM SO SORRY THAT I KEPT YOU GUYS WAITING FOR LIKE THREE MONTHS I FEEL LIKE SUCH A HORRIBLE PERSON HOW CAN YOU GUYS EVER FORGIVE ME! IM SORRY! IM SORRY! IM SORRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!**

**-smacks Ritsu – Anyway, thanks for waiting! I really am sorry. But I have the chapter up now, so what can I say? Anyway, they'll HOPEFULLY be coming sooner, alright? Please review!**


	20. The Emerald Femme

**A/n:**___I apologize for the shortness of this chapter and the one before it, and the fact that I haven't updated in God-knows-when. Anyway, thanks for sticking with me still. XD It makes me smile every time I come on to see your guys' reviews! _

_Continuing, I have many excuses for being late._

_-I was in a play called "Up The Down Staircase" as the wonderful afro-clad student Vivian Paine._

_-I have a lot of school activities, such as choir, to keep me occupied. I am in choir, Women's Vocal Jazz (which I tried out for), I got accepted into Honor's Choir, and I'm doing a SHIT-load of solo and ensemble songs. My songs include "Se tu ma'mi" for my solo (its Italian), as well as a musical theater song (which means you dress up like the character) called "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" from the Phantom of the Opera, as well as one more song called "Shenandoah" or something-or-other._

_-I've had a lot of stress with Algebra and English, and just school in general._

_-I have been making videos for YouTube. (My names are Wintertainment and SangoTheHoe in case you wanted to check them out)._

_-I was grounded._

_-I've been lazy._

_Those among other things have kept me busy. So sorry! Please forgive me! And read the twentieth chapter of "Primrose Path". (Wow, 20? Its that long already?) Oh! And review, too. -glares at all of you menacingly until you review-_

--

Getting out of an asylum is actually pretty easy. Especially after you kill all of the guards and security personnel. We sort of just walked out of there calmly, seeing as how everyone was _dead_. But I couldn't help but expect a little visit from the Bat. Hell, I _wanted_ it.

"Wow," I began just as we were approaching the getaway vehicle – a gigantic semi-truck. "Very secretive, I see."

"Yeah, yeah," Harley said, crossing her arms. "Busta' and Lou were in charge of it, and this is what they picked out." I chuckled.

"It's fine, Harls..." I paused to think for a moment. "Actually, why don't you and the boys take this out back. I'll... be a while. Just meet me back at the Warehouse in an hour, alright?" She nodded hesitantly.

"Whatever ya say, Mistah J." With that, she and the other two hopped into the semi and drove off. I sighed. I was expecting a visit from Batty, so I might as well have been ready for him. I knew he'd come. Hell, he was on me before I even started my debut, he'd sure as hell know where I was now.

I meandered through town for a few minutes, eventually coming across an old abandoned apartment building. Perfect. Not even bothering to go inside, I climbed up the stairs to the roof. I'd almost lost my footing a few times, well, with the ice and all, but I somehow managed to get up there successfully. Once there, I walked over to the edge of the roof, nearly tripping over one of the air conditioners. It was rather chilly, as the wind was blowing almost constantly, snow and whatnot floating through the air diagonally. I looked at the city of Gotham that lay below me. All of its lights, flickering and flashing, cars speeding by, and the train that cut through the middle of the town over the docks and ferries. So much time had gone into making that. So much time that it you almost _yearned_ for it to go up in flames.

"Come on, Batty boy!" I screamed to the world. "You wanted me, so here I am. And I _know_ you wanted me, you were just _waiting _for -"

"For you to escape?" Came a voice from behind me. At first, I thought it would be exactly whom I expected, but upon contemplating it, I came into sudden realization that I was dead wrong. As soon as I realized who it was, I grinned. Oh, how could this night get any better?

"My, my, you do have a way of surprising a guy," I told the figure, turning around to face her. Who else that stood there in a ridiculously small bathing suit in the middle of winter than my dearest Miss Isley?

"And you have a way of surprising a girl, Jack," she said, stepping towards me, her crimson hair looking even more radiant against her eerily green skin.

"I see you got my letter," I told her, leaning my arm on the railing. "My, you're looking as green as ever, Pam. I thought I told you that you were getting to close to your plants."

"Well, actually, funny story about that..." she began, stopping once she was a few feet away from me. "You know, I was a botanist for God knows how many years... I do know when I'm being poisoned. Only so would someone like _you _be...unsuccessful, when it comes to my area of expertise. Now, I'd leave the messing with chemicals to the professionals, not a little traumatized boy who likes to play with chemistry sets."

"That was harsh, Pam," I said, placing my hand on my chest comically, acting like I was taken aback. "Now, if you knew you were being poisoned, then why did you touch the letter?"

"You really are as funny as they say," she said, crossing her arms. "Which isn't very funny at all."

"Oh, well, excuse me for having a sense of humor, _Miss Isley_." I said slyly, smirking and giving her a wink. She glared.

"Someone who's so cocky should know not to mix Hyacinth Bulbs and Rosary Pea seeds. Now, me personally, I would have Daphne. Just get the concentrated juice from those berries, and I would have been dead in an instant. But you know, Hyacinth bulbs and Rosary Pea seeds don't mix well as it is, and, you know, I've been immune to those for years, seeing as I make my own antidotes for their symptoms. And now that I've given you ideas, I might as well say I'm immune to Daphne, too. One thing that I, per say, underestimated, was the fact that together, the two plants that _you_ used turned my skin green, and had a strange effect on the plant life around me..." Just as she was saying this, the vines that had been growing on the side of the apartment building had slid up like snakes, sliding along the ground until they reached Pamela, who took them in her hands as if they were pets.

"Who'da thunk it?" I said, standing upright now, as I had been leaning on the railing. I smirked, taking a step towards her. "Aren't you cold?"

"Plants aren't warm blooded," she said lowly, emerald eyes sparkling. We shared a moment of silence, the only noise being the crisp wind and the city below us. For a moment, everything seemed like white noise, mind my breathing and heartbeat that pounded in my chest. There was something in Pamela's eyes, the animosity, the _ferocity_, that kept even _me_ on edge. I liked it.

"You know," I said after a while, smiling as I broke the tension. "You're too attached to your work. You're beginning to think you actually _are_ a plant..."

"You, too," she said. "You're beginning to think you're actually a _comic_."

"Ouch," I said with a frown. "What is it with you and being so touchy? Where has the Pamela we've all come to know and love gone?"

"You don't _know_ or _love_ me, you grinning gargoyle. Harley neither. You should just leave her alone. Word on the street is, you're calling her your 'moll'."

"Hmm, moll? Really now, I don't believe that's the correct term," I said, leaning on the railing once again. "I prefer to call her 'Cupcake' or 'Sweetheart'. It's more _homey, _you know?" For a moment, I thought of what would happen if that railing were to break. I'd be face to face with the pavement. And I'm sure Miss Isley was _wishing_ for it.

"Shut your trap," she snapped, clenching a fist. "Why are you using Harls to do your dirty work?"

"Dirty work? She barely does _any _work, Pam. Hmph. And I thought you wouldn't get in the way. You know, you're posing to be a bigger problem than I had hoped..." She snarled.

"And you're posing to be a bigger asshole than I thought, if that's even possible. I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you with that other Wayne kid. And _don't_ think I haven't been keeping tabs on you. Ever since I recovered from your little 'trap', I set off to find you. Hell, you really shouldn't have written your name on the bottom of the card, Jack. Of course, you thought I'd have _died_..." She took a moment to pause before continuing. "Who do you think I saw on the evening news? You and Harley were plastered all over it. You're a wanted criminal, and you're spoiling Harley's good reputation. I also heard you took a little interest in the Bat, so I contacted him. That's right, I did. Just shine that light on the city that the commissioner had built, and he swings by in an instant. He'd already been keeping tabs on you ever since you entered Arkham last year... So it was pretty easy to learn of your location. Believe me, the second you broke out, we both knew it."

"Are you finished?" I asked, looking around tiredly with a fake yawn. She seemed taken aback, lowering her brow. I checked my watch a minute. Almost midnight already. I turned to Pamela.

"Look, its not like I _force_ Harley. She came to _me_. And... she's not as 'innocent' as you think, Miss Isley..." We looked at each other for a long while. "You must learn not to judge a book by its cover."

"Oh, I've already learned that..." she said lowly, her brows furrowed, green orbs focused on my brown-hazel ones. At first she looked angry, but then she perked up, almost in a sarcastic manner. Taking a step towards me, she spoke. "At first, I thought you were... on edge, or maybe even cold-hearted..." She grabbed me by my collar and yanked me down to her height – not as much of a difference as Harley's. Lips shimmered eerily green as she began once more. "...I was right."

All of a sudden, those same green lips greeted mine. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around me. I didn't know what to think, although I really didn't object, either. Hey, I'm still just a guy.

Feeling a tingling sensation on my lips, I grinned, licking them as she pulled away. She smirked.

"You really _are_ an idiot, aren't you?" she said slyly, emerald eyes sparkling just as bright as her lips. I came into sudden realization as I coughed hoarsely, soon fading into an abysmal darkness. She'd poisoned me.

--

I awoke to face a bright light shining in my eyes. As the world around me focused, I noticed I was in some sort of hotel room, laying on a bed. The bedside lamp was as bright as ever in its spot on the end table. I yawned groggily, suddenly sitting up with the urge to purge everything I'd devoured earlier.

Next to me was Harley, who'd I only just realized was there when she placed her hand on my back and a bucket in front of my face. She rubbed my back gently, whispering something through choked tears.

At the foot of the bed stood a familiar face – Johnathan Crane. He held a clip board in one hand – probably with some observations written down on it. He gave a less-than-thrilled look, fixing his glasses the minute he noticed I was awake.

"Ah, Johnny," I said the minute I'd finished retching. "Nice to... - ghk! ...see ya..."

"Good to see you're up," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm assuming you know why you're here."

"I just won the jackpot, right?" I asked, wiping my mouth. Harley had grabbed a glass of water that had been sitting next to the lamp and handed it to me, which I graciously accepted.

"Humor's as vivid as ever," he said, scribbling down a few things on the clipboard. "At least your not fully out of it as I had presumed."

"Where's my money, Johnny?" I asked with a smirk. He glared at me. I loved this kid. Barely knew him, but I got a kick out of him. He acted so _mature_, when in reality, he was younger than me.

"You've been poisoned," John said, setting down his glasses. "With a mixture of Rosary Peas and some other substances, mostly those found in lipstick, it looks like. I've already prepared the antidote – no need to thank me." He coughed for a moment before staring me down with those silvery eyes of his. "She didn't mean for it to kill you, you know. Traces of the poison were found on your lips, and I'm pretty sure she didn't make you eat lipstick, Jack."

"Used my own trick against me..." I said with a pout. At this second comment, I looked up slyly, licking my lips once. "I..." I turned to Harley, who's deep blue eyes were glossy with tears. "I'm _sorry, _Darlin'. It wasn't _me_ who kissed her, honest, I swear."

"I know..." Harley said, looking down at her knees. "I just can't believe Red'd do somethin' like that... My own best friend."

I had Harley eating out of the palm of my hand. I'd got her to second guess her best friend, kill security personnel and asylum patients for me, let alone do day-to-day chores for me. She was like a maid, a servant, an assistant... I loved her for it. It was so easy to just, bluntly put, warp her mind.

I needed no further prodding to use her. Johnathan was on our side, but I still had doubts. He just seemed a little... suspicious. And I still didn't know what to do with Rachel. She wasn't as big of a problem now that the whole world knew who I was, but I still questioned whether she'd have a play in my future. In any case, we'd just have to wait, as time slowly ticked away.


	21. The Danger Within

**A/****N: **_Thanks for the reviews! NOTE (for All Nightmare Long)! Jack is 18, Bruce is 18, John is 17, Harley is in her late 20s, Pamela is in her late 20s, Rachel is 17, Harvey is 18. That's about it for ages!_

That night I'd dreamed of them.

My parents, I mean.

There they'd been standing, in our living room still scattered with remnants of wrappers and other things no one bothered to pick up. All was dark outside, the window still shattered from where a baseball had collided with the glass. My baseball.

Mother had just arrived minutes prior to my entering the fateful living area from one of her dead-end jobs as a whore, and Father was walking in from the doorway from his most recent drinking binge.

I cringed, second-guessing myself as I wanted to turn my 12-year-old self away, and run back into the kitchen. But just as I was about to, a stern hand grabbed the back of my shirt, whipping me around and slapping me without a moment's hesitation. Mother's onyx eyes darted down my form, inspecting me, to make sure nothing other than the window was out of line. I felt that if I even _blinked_ wrong, there'd be hell to pay.

But instead, being the way Mother was, she just turned to Father, pursing her lips and snapping a little "get over here, Tom."

The tall, dark figure that loomed over my helpless young form lumbered towards me, bending down to stare me in the face. At first he didn't say anything, but all of a sudden, out of the blue, he yelled "Jackson Victor Napier! What the hell you call _that_?!" he asked, although he damn well knew the answer, pointing a chubby finger towards the shattered window. A feeling of regret lingered in the pit of my stomach, and I wished to have never gotten the idea to play baseball that day.

Father only called me by my full name when he was _really_ mad, and this was one of those times. Usually he and Mother just called me "Boy" or "You", or something rather derogative and shameful. My full name had only been used once since I could last remember, and that was the time I'd accidentally lit the curtains on fire when I'd been playing with Mother's cigarette matches.

"Answer your father," Mother demanded, eerily calm, yet extremely dark. I shook violently, my eyes looking from Mother, to the floor, and then to Father's grim, usually lifeless eyes that were now incinerating with rage.

"I... It's a...b-broken...window."

"Damn straight! And how did that window get broken, Boy?!" There goes my name. You'd think it'd be very angering to be called something like "Boy" or "You" or even "Thing", but it actually comforted me. Jackson Victor Napier, now that was a name. It made me feel like a person, a somebody. But really, it felt better to be no one, a faceless "Boy" or "Thing". I'd rather be no one than Jackson Victor Napier, if Jackson Victor Napier was the spawn of Lucille Ann and Thomas Napier.

After an explanation that was rather pointless because Father didn't even listen or even take the fact that it was an accident into judgment, I retired to my room, or rather the cot in the basement, after one of the worst beatings of my life, and drifted off into a well-needed sleep.

I woke up to see a darkening sky poking through the ratted-out curtains of the hotel room. Johnathan was nowhere in sight – he must have went home hours ago. After questioning about what exactly Pamela had poisoned me with, and receiving the antidote, I fell asleep almost immediately. I turned around. Harley was laying next to me, blonde hair strewn across her face and shoulders. I leaned over her to place a kiss upon her forehead, then made my way to get out of bed.

I headed to the window to peer out through the curtains. It was morning, but the skies were dark, the clouds heavy with rain. I sighed, opening the curtains all the way, but then turning to retreat to the bathroom.

I turned the sink on, staring at my ghastly white face in the mirror. My brown eyes looked me in the face darkly, contrasting greatly with my skin as well as my unruly green hair. I scooped water into my hands and splashed my face with it to wake me up a bit.

I'd barely gotten to ask John anything, especially things about Rachel that I'd been meaning to ask for quite some time. I wanted to know what _exactly _happened on their date, and what he'd done to her. I knew that was her in the asylum that I saw. Then it hit me – Harley killed everyone in the asylum!

"Harley!" I yelled, running back into the room and shaking her sleeping form furiously. She woke up in an instant, grabbing my hands with her own, blue eyes wide.

"What is it, Jack?!" she nearly yelled, voice hoarse. Jack. She hadn't called me that in a long time...

"In the...asylum! Ra... Rachel was in the asylum!" I yelled, jaw trembling. She stared at me confusedly for a long moment.

"What are you..." I couldn't help it. Rage had built up inside me so fast, I couldn't control myself. She was messing up my plan! If she killed Rachel... She... She was interfering! She had screwed up the balance!

My hands gripped her neck as they had before in her room months ago, only this time I didn't let go right away. She was looking at me, yet she still didn't fight back. Tears had welled up in her eyes and spilled out sideways almost immediately. Her lip trembled as she struggled to form words, but all that came out was gurgles. My hands shook. I didn't want to let her go – she deserved to die. But something made me do it, something made me let go of her and toss her to the ground.

She rolled once, coughing furiously once she got the chance to breathe. She dug her face into her arms, and I could hear her crying through her coughs. I stared at the bedsheets, my nails digging into them.

But something surprised me.

A hand. A hand was placed on my thigh.

Harley sniffed, tears plaguing her cheeks as she lay her head on my lap. Lips trembling, eyes closed, she nuzzled me, either that or dried her tears on my pants, and whispered, "I love you."

I felt water droplets on my own cheeks now as, reluctant to her apparent apology for my behavior, pushed her back on the ground. She sniffed once more, crawling back towards me.

"Don't do this to me," she whispered hoarsely. "I love you, please... Please don't." I pushed her back down with more force this time, causing her to make a little squeak. Yet, she crawled back towards me once again, and I could hear her crying this time.

"Please... Jack. _Puddin_'. T-tell me..."

"You killed Rachel Dawes..." I said lowly, staring her down in the face. She shook her head, lips still trembling.

"N-no, I--"

"You interfered! I told you not to interfere!" I said, standing up furiously. She got me _so_ angry sometimes! I wanted to just... to just kill her!

"Rachel... she escaped!" she yelled hoarsely, her voice cracking at the end. I stared at her, eyes still wild, waiting for an explanation.

"She escaped," she said again. "With John. John came with me when... I went to.... rescue you. And..." She paused to cough roughly. "B-but he was gone before I got the chance to tell you h-he was there..."

I was outraged. And a little ashamed. No... I wasn't _sorry_. Just... bewildered. John was there?! And why did he take Rachel? This just posed more questions than before.

Instead of forgiving Harley, however, I blamed even more on her.

"You didn't tell me, Harley! Why the hell didn't you tell me?!"

"I-I didn't have time!" she yelled, voice cracking once again. "You left just as soon--"

"Stop making excuses, god damn it!" I yelled, grabbing her by the shirt and lifting her so that she was standing. "You could have told me, you just didn't _want_ to! You brought this on yourself, you... you..." I stopped yelling for a moment, then looked at her darkly, lowering my voice so that I was a little more calm. "Get out."

"Wh-what?" she asked, tears beginning to flow once more. I glared at her, pointing towards the door of the hotel room.

"I said, get the hell out! Get out of my sight! I don't ever wanna see your face again!" I screamed at her, pointing multiple times towards the door as I spoke. She clutched the sides of her face with her hands, but soon nodded, shaking, then turned around and briskly walked out of there, turning around to see me and let out one more "Puddin'" before I slammed the door in her face.

_--_

_THATS IT FOR NOW, FOLKS! Sorry I only ended with one scene... But really, it was kind of long! Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review!_


	22. Deserving Death

It had been about a week since I'd seen Harley. I hadn't gotten a word from her since I'd kicked her out on the street, with nothing but the clothes on her back, which was pretty much what she'd been sleeping in the night before. Not much to give her, but hey, she'd gotten me mad, and well, I was in charge.

Sure, I felt a little bad about it - she'd only devoted her entire life to me and everything I do. (Okay, I'm just getting full of myself.) But still, she deserved what she got, probably even worse. She couldn't go withholding information like that. She must have done it for a reason… John must have done something, maybe even threatened her with the same stuff that made Rachel loopy.

It was then that I set out to find him - and demand an answer.

I got out of that shabby hotel and made my way down Gotham's streets to John's most recent location - a dilapidated old apartment complex on the east side of town. I'd gotten this information from the street after a few days of searching, and I hoped he was still there.

From what I knew, the place served as his laboratory as well as residence, so it probably would be a more permanent place for him to live than any other.

After much needed exercise, I made it to the apartment building. It was tall and leaned a little to the side - not the safest thing in the world. It was built from red bricks, with cracked open windows and ratty curtains - reminded me a lot of my old house.

I made my way up the crumbling pathway to the "ruins", opening the door to a view of about three plastic plants and a heavy smell of the elderly.

What the hell kind of a place was John living in? I had to admit, I had it better without a home that living in this piece-of-shit building.

Anyway, I headed through the musty hallways with doors marked with half-falling off numbers until I eventually came up to the door marked 164.

Not even bothering to knock, I bumped up against the door. It was locked, but I was in luck, because the hinge busted off after a few tries. Not my problem.

I stepped into what appeared to be a living room. The carpet was a faded red, from what I could see - the lights were off. Maybe he was gone. But just as the thought came into my mind, it left, for I heard a few muffled noises coming from another room in the apartment. Peering under the door, I could see that the lights were off in there as well. Maybe John was up to some secret chemical experiments. I laughed mentally. I could just imagine that kid growing marijuana or something of the like.

Again, without a knock, I twisted the handle and pushed open the door. I only saw a few outlines in the dark, but I knew exactly what was going on. And as the light flickered on, my suspicions were proven to be correct.

There was John, in a bed just musty as the whole place smelled, curled up next to a skinny blonde woman with dazzling blue eyes and a look of outright horror on her face.

I smiled through my anger, my _fury_, and stepped towards the "happy couple", spinning the strap on my jacket as I laughed.

"Harley, Harley, Harley, well, if it isn't you. What a surprise!" I said, bending over and laughing comically, smacking my knee, barely able to contain myself. "Oh, oh," I said, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, a grin as wide as Texas set on my face. "Oh, this is rich. I came here to talk to John, and I find my wonderful, beautiful little Harley…" and at this time, I tugged on her cheek a few times. "… cheating. _Cheating _on me with him." I took my hand away and smacked her across the face with quite a bit of strength, causing her fall on her newfound lover's lap. I then grabbed her by the arm with a grip like steel and dragged her from the bed, sliding her naked form across the carpet and throwing her into a heap in the corner.

"Get dressed, Harley," I told her sharply, turning to John. "And as for you…" I stepped forward, leaning in so close he could probably taste the tension in my breath. "You have messed with the wrong man." I said no more, only gave him a longing glare, before turning back to _ma _cheating _cherie, _who had just gotten her panties back on, and threw the pile of the rest of her clothing at her. She caught it, holding it in front of her chest. I grabbed her roughly by the arm once more, lifting her up and pulling her out of the room. She struggled to walk, but managed to follow along eventually.

I was so furious I couldn't even put it into words if I had to. I wanted to kill her, _murder_ her, _torture_ her until she screamed for mercy, among so many other things. She now deserved death. When I kicked her out, I was not even half as mad. But this, no, this topped the cake.

I pulled the distressed damsel down the street until we came to an alleyway, which I deliberately threw her into, most of the clothing she carried falling around her. She was crying profoundly, backing up in absolute fear until she came to the wall. She was whimpering like mad, whispering, "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm _so_ sorry, P-Puddin'. Forgive me. Please, _God_, don't kill me!"

I bent down lowly to her, taking her head in my hands, making her look directly at me. Her blue eyes sparkled with tears that streamed down in continuous lines on her face.

"I'm not going to kill you, my sweet, sweet Harley…" I said gently, pressing my lips to hers, then pulling away to look her in the face, giving a few nods. Her bottom lip quivered, and I could see she was absolutely _terrified_.

"What I really want to know, is _why_," I said, giving her a little frown. "Why did you do it Harley?" I thought surely she was going to answer to save her skin, but she didn't, only continued to cry more, not making any noise, but shutting her eyes tightly, sobbing.

"Was I not giving you enough, Harley?" I questioned, tilting my head a little. I forcibly made her nod, which she apparently didn't want to do. "In that case," I began, reaching into my jacket and pulling out a pocket knife, which I kept closed, waving it around in front of her. "I'll give you some right here and now. How's that sound?

She tried to scream, but I covered her mouth with my gloved hand. "Harley, Harley, Harley…" I whispered. "Hey, hey, shh…" She shook her head furiously, and I could feel the tears seep in through my gloves. I could hear her muffled wails through my hand, but I didn't release it.

I took my free hand, which also held the pocket knife, and grabbed her thigh, prying it apart from the other one which Harley tried with all her might to clamp together. She was crying even more now, downright screaming for me not too, but it was still muffled under my hand. I leaned in close to her, flicking the knife open between her legs.

"Hey, hey, Harley… Shh, Harley…" I whispered to her, raising my brows in the slightest. "Harley, I'm not gonna lie; this is gonna be painful. And I want you to remember just this one little thing - never mess with the Joker."

--

_There it is, folks! Sorry that I didn't update in a while - I lost muse, and no one was reviewing. =_= I thought you guys didn't want to read it anymore. But I suddenly got some muse, so I wrote it up real quick! Oh, and if you didn't get it, yes, he raped her with the knife. So review, or I'll do the same to you! -glares threateningly-_


	23. A Familiar Voice

_I have absolutely no excuse for leaving you guys hanging for like, a year. But you don't even want to know all that's happened to me. I was in the hospital, I moved back and forth, and I had a lot of parental issues. I'm so. Incredibly. Sorry. For leaving you guys like this. I can't express how sorry I am. Please accept my apology. To make up for it, I will be updating every week—with a chapter probably coming in every week. At least, I'll shoot for that. Okay?_

Whores deserved to lie in the alleyway like the filth they were, but despite the fact that I had now become a cold-blooded killer (or, maybe it was the fact that I just wanted to see her suffer even more), I had carried Harley all the way back to the hotel. I stood in the bathroom, looking at my shirt which was stained with blood. Not my blood, if you get my drift.

I was washing it under the water of the sink, watching the diluted blood twirl down into the drain before it vanished. I had been scrubbing at the stain for a few minutes before I heard a noise coming from the bed.

Harley lie there, half-conscious, wrapped loosely in bloodstained sheets. I didn't want to look at her. I didn't want to talk to her. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with the worthless filth she was. But she was saying something, and for some reason, even in my rage, I couldn't ignore her any further.

"N…Ngh," she groaned, coming back into consciousness. I wrung out my shirt and hung it on the bar above the shower, fixing my white undershirt before I headed over towards her.

"Rise and shine," I spat grumpily, ripping the sheets off of her bloodied form. I had been nice enough to redress her in the night tank top and shorts she had left in. I thought I was being a pretty nice guy, considering the situation.

Automatically, my harlequin moll began to cry. How dare her! She didn't have the right to cry. She was nothing better than a whore. She didn't have the right to do anything. I should have just killed her, I thought. Should have just ripped that knife straight through her heart and done the deed. But no, I just had to bring her back. I clenched my fist, frustrated at myself.

"I'm sorry," Harley suddenly spluttered. My heart didn't sink at all. I didn't care if she was sorry or not. She was a whore. And she didn't deserve my pity, let alone forgiveness.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Toots," I told her, turning away from her sharply before heading to the window. Cars rushed by outside, followed by the occasional honking of a horn or yell from a car window. Whoever said Gotham City was a friendly city was lying straight through their teeth.

Harley continued to cry, and I sighed. I wasn't falling for it. No, I was too angry. There were so many things I wanted to do to her—fastening my hands around her neck, for example—that I couldn't even think straight.

"Get yourself a shower and get dressed," I spat at her, rubbing my temples. I was thinking. I had to milk this situation for all that it was worth. Even though Harley had royally fucked things up for the both of us, I realized that I could still make this work.

There was a new man on our hit list, and that man was Jonathan Crane. And Harley was going to do the deed.

With my supervision, of course.

Harley made some sort of noise as she sat up, but I could see how much it pained her by how much she was trembling. I didn't care about her at all. Not one bit.

"Wh…What?"

"I said, get up!" I yelled, yanking her by the arm up off the bed. She made a pained noise as she hobbled into the bathroom, tears that were black with mascara running down her cheeks. When I heard the shower turn on (ignoring her groans of pain), I grabbed a duffel bag from the end table, threw it on the bed and began rifling through it until I found a bag of surgical supplies. They were just some things I had acquired from a store; a clamp, a wire cutter, some other odds and ends—and a needle. Pulling it out, I took a lighter from my pocket and flicked it on, holding the tip of the needle over the flame.

"Harley…" I said, loud enough so she could hear. "Hurry up. Before you do my bidding I need to be able to trust you."

It didn't take her long for her to come out of the bathroom with a thin towel wrapped around her, her hair still wet. "Sit," I told her, pointing to the bloody bed before I walked over to a chair that sat off to the side. With a firm tug, I yanked one of the legs off and approached Harley, pushing her down so she was on her back.

"Wha…J-Jack…what are you-?"

"Bite this," I said, pushing the chair leg sideways into her mouth. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as I threaded the needle and put it back under the flame for a few seconds.

She started to struggle, but I held her down firmly. "Shut up, Harley. You're gonna make this up to me by doing whatever I want. So, I'm going to make sure you can never cheat on me again."

I ignored the whore's shrieks as I threaded the needle. "You're going to go on a date with Johnathan. You're going to get me some information, Toots. And then you're going to come back. You're going to be monitored, and any slip-up will end up with my knife _slipping_ into your throat. Got it?"

Harley's eyes were too wide as she stared down at the needle I readied in my hands. "Now," I continued. "Bite down, Sweet Cheeks. This is gonna sting a little."

xx

I turned the dial on the radio to turn up the volume. Harley, all sewed up and equipped with an audio device, was on her way on her way to the restaurant Johnathan had agreed to meet up with her at. My thugs Buster and Lewis were already there, watching his every move, ready to give him the slip if necessary. Yes, my plan was working quite well now. I could listen in on what was happening without even being there. I was going to get information out of Johnathan. First of all, I was going to get the formula of that potion he used on Rachel, and I was going to get whatever he knew about Rachel.

But, I had a bit of time on my hands, and so I decided to slip out of the apartment, onto the balcony. The snow was drifting down, and the wind had picked up. But...something was even more eerie than the howling wind, or the chilling snow.

A dark, raspy voice spoke from behind me-a voice I hadn't heard in a very, very long time.

"Joker."

I smirked, not even having to look to see who had come to visit me that night. "Why hello...Batsy."


End file.
